


Zero Sum Game

by AwfulWaful



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Almost everyone is failing, F/F, Fake Science, PTSD, Past Pharmercy (but still friends), Post-Recall, almost everyone is doing their best to be an adult, basically everyone else as supporting characters, past trauama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2019-09-15 19:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwfulWaful/pseuds/AwfulWaful
Summary: It's difficult to learn that giving an inch doesn't mean losing a mile.Even harder to accept the strength in vulnerability.





	1. Shadows of Memory

The townhouse was quiet, the only light coming from the lamps outside that hung over the road. It wasn’t uncommon for Angela to wake in the middle of the night to the glow coming from between the curtains, unable to curl over and go back to sleep. Years of pseudo-military life played it’s part in her sleep struggles. So did long-term stress from working in operating theaters both established and hastily constructed. Getting up for a drink of water was usually all she needed to return to sleep. Just enough activity and stimulus to turn her brain over without completely waking her up… And it was also perfect for soothing any anxiety about her own safety.

But it wasn’t as though she woke up from dim light or simple habit. It was almost always the dreams. She still felt the echoes of blended dreams and memories even now as she worked up the will to leave the warm duvet behind. Tense situations rolled into each other to make for restless dreams and nightmares. Fareeha had told her once that she mumbled in her sleep sometimes when they were bad. It was how she’d known to gently wake Angela up to pull her out of whatever nightmare she was having. She was grateful for that, in a way, but Angela had always woken herself up eventually. With or without help. Then she would get herself through the terror and disorientation that would come after… With or without help. Still. A pair of comforting arms and muttered words of assurance in the dark had always been nicer to wake up to then just her own empty bed.

If she called Fareeha now and asked, Angela would probably get a visit from her within the week. Not that it would help immediately, but it would mean she wouldn’t spend this down-time, away from her humanitarian work, completely alone with her troubled sleep. Except she’d already decided against taking advantage of Fareeha’s kindness. Angela wouldn’t even send her an email just to touch base. The Egyptian woman would know. Ex-lovers or not, Fareeha was loyal to a fault and would come running to help her friend if she suspected anything. That wasn’t really fair to either of them. Angela really did not want to feel like she was taking Fareeha for granted.

The Swiss woman finally willed herself to push back the covers, her camisole and thin cotton sleep-pants doing little to protect her from the cold air. She didn’t mind. It woke her up faster, chased away the last echos of frantic voices and dire tones from her dreams.

She took a deep breath as she moved to the side of the bed. It only took a moment to gather herself before she got up, padding out of the door and down the steps with a stifled yawn. She didn’t turn on any lights. There was enough ambient light through the windows to see by and she knew the townhouse like the back of her hand.

She shivered briefly at the cold tile of the kitchen floor as she walked to the fridge, opening the door to contemplate her choices. A cold drink, a few moments standing on her feet… She’d feel settled enough to get some more sleep. The light from inside flooded across her kitchen and she squinted her tired eyes against it, leaving it open so she could find a cup.

Angela came back to the glowing box, pressing the glass she had gotten to the slot on the inside wall of the fridge for water. Keeping the fridge open for the light to see by, she moved to the counter and downed the whole thing almost in one go. A small noise from the living room, caught her attention as she set the glass onto the countertop. That… had to be a mistake, didn’t it? Oh no, did she have mice again? Angela moved, blearily, to the end of the counter, next to the archway that led into the living room, squinting through the dim light from the fridge behind her.

“Hello?”

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust back to the darkness and the tall, thin figure to register against the outline of her bookshelves. It only did because Moira’s head turned and the light caught her copper hair. It was as if she’d walked straight out of Angela’s memory, standing in her familiar dark shirt, tie, and dress pants, faced partly away, holding one of Angela’s framed photos.

“... Moira?”

The Irish woman looked over her shoulder, the glint of her blue eye eerie in the dark. Her flat, irritated expression hard to miss even with the gloom. How many times had Angela earned that look for interrupting her while she was thinking?

“Angela.” Moira half turned towards her. An easy, mockingly amused smile spreading over her pointed features.

The blonde’s breath caught and a deep feeling of dread settled in her stomach. That wasn’t an expression she’d earned often. It usually meant Moira was about to rip her apart with razored words. She couldn’t say anything.

“Sleeping on the job again? Do you never learn, Angel?”

“What?” Confusion broke the spell fear had woven on her and Angela took half a nervous step backwards even as her tone became irritated and defensive, “No!”

If she was here in the middle of the night… If she was taunting her using that nickname… This could mean nothing good.

Moira’s smile started to fade, “Really?”

“I would never!”

The smile on O’Deorain’s face slid down into a stony neutrality, her brow arching up questioningly. Neither smiling or frowning but the familiar superiority and harsh judgement in her mismatched eyes was obvious.

“Never?”

Moira came to face her fully, setting the picture frame aside. Angela almost whimpered, the sudden intense urge to run filling her veins with ice. Angela’s firm stance faded as she took another step back rather than respond.

Moira continued as if nothing had changed. “Then could you please explain…”

The world warped in shadows as the Irish woman’s form exploded, her clothes twisting into a red, black and silver uniform, her nails elongating into claws, her right hand mutating and snarling with purple vein-like protrusions. She loomed large over Angela, grinning madly, half in shadow, her claws and long fingers reaching to catch her up, to cut her to shreds. To drag her down and force every screaming confession of failure out of her.

“... HOW _**YOU**_ LET THIS HAPPEN?!”

“N-no..! NO!” She moved to fight, even while terror made her muscles as useful as limp noodles. Even while her heart had already accepted the inevitable. The unavoidable. The deserved...

Angela jerked straight up in bed, flinging the sheets off of her. She turned on instinct, lunging for the bedside table, yanking out the drawer and pulling the gun from its hiding place there. Disoriented and wild but wide eyed with endorphins thundering through her system, she looked around for the threat. She was only fully starting to realize she was wake as she sat on her knees on the bed, pointing the gun at every shadow. Her pounding heart was slowly starting to even out as she breathed heavily.

She checked the dark corners, first one then the other. If you don’t check your corners then you’re dead. But... Nothing. No shapes. No looming women from her past. No clawing sense of dread... Of guilt.

A nightmare… It was just a nightmare... It was only….

“ _Gopferdammi…_ ”

Her bitter smile wasn’t really one of mirth, even though she was laughing at herself in a fashion. A few tears leaked out as she let herself shakily sit back against the pillows and the wall, gun on her lap as she reached up to wipe away the dampness. It had just been a dream. A bad dream. One of a dozen somewhat like it she’d had before. Most often it was Moira. Other times it would be Gabriel. Or Gerard and Amélie. Sometimes Jack or Ana… Very rarely it was her parents. Yes. Compared to the ones that involved her parents this had been practically a pleasant visit from an old friend.

But that didn’t comfort her enough to get up and go get a glass of water. She couldn’t think of going back to sleep now. She sat and stared down the harmless shadows in exhaustion for what had to be hours but felt like days. Until the first edges of sunlight lit the sky outside her window. The glow coming through the curtains had crept across the wall and onto her with the rising sun and she finally sighed in relief.

It was extremely childish… But the light of dawn relaxed her as if it had chased off the monsters. She put the gun onto the bedside table without fixing the drawer before she curled back up on her pillows. Taking a deep breath as she let her eyes close, allowing herself to finally slide back into sleep. Hopefully this time she would not dream under the protection of the sun.

 

Downstairs a coiling black mist had slipped in, unnoticed, through the mail-slot. Tendrils of the cloud condensed carefully into a tall, slender form. The woman checked herself over to make sure nothing had gone astray before she stepped, utterly silent, through the foyer, into the living room. She was intent on finding a comfortable place to wait after her long flight over.

But she paused next to one of the tables when something caught her eye. Long fingers lifted the curious framed image to be inspected.

In the picture were two women. One taller, fiery hair near matched by her red cheeks. She was stooped down, pulled into a half embrace by the shorter blonde who was just as red. Both of them were all excitement and tipsy joy, holding glasses of cheap champagne, free arms around each other like dear friends. Winston had been the photographer if she recalled correctly. He’d been just as excited for them and suggested the photo. Angela had agreed to it excitedly, pulling Moira in with a laugh and a toast just before the flash had gone off. This could very well be the only image of Moira taken in her adult life where she was genuinely smiling.

Moira remembered that day very well. It was the success of their two year project. The nano-biotics that altered the face of the world. Reshaping medicine and opening the door to so many possibilities. She’d been so young then, Angela had been younger still. Barely twenty two when they’d first met. The regular arguments, the stilted friendship, the awkward feelings… Nothing had mattered in that moment of pure joy at the validation of their labors. It was the first time they had changed the world together. It had also been the last.

Successful as they had been, they didn’t have the chance to work together again officially. Split off to work on their own projects in their respective departments, their superiors and the UN excited to see what they could come up with next. Angela had even been boosted to the lofty heights of ‘Head of Medical’. Well deserved in her opinion. They would occasionally get lunch together, take breaks on the roof, even bounce ideas off of each other in their offices without breaching NDAs as much as possible… But that had been the end of their quality time together. They were both slaves to their work. There were no hard feelings on that fact from either of them. No false promises of spending more time together or other inane things they couldn’t actually commit to. 

And maybe, just a little, she had been avoiding any more personal involvement with the much younger woman. Angela had been brilliant and beautiful and the first person to really challenge some of Moira’s stances on things since university. Fascinating, frustrating, admirable… But God… Angela had been twenty four years old. So young. Too young for Moira’s attraction to her. Even a person like Moira who was famous for sneering at ethics committees could only see herself as a predator if she’d pursued such a relationship. Angela was a genius girl with an iron backbone… who had never had a committed relationship in her life. It was too unbalanced. Moira had sworn the idea off all together for both their sakes, she wouldn’t even contemplate if Angela had any interest because that was not a risk she was willing to take.

She’d only slipped that leash once. Thankfully it hadn’t been a disaster to rectify.

In the end she never discovered what had come of Angela’s research. Moiras own had been successful but led to her dismissal from Overwatch proper, into the waiting hands of Blackwatch. There were no more lunch dates or friendly emails about ‘hypotheticals’. There hadn’t even been time for her to know Angela’s reaction to her published findings. Her self-experimentation. If she even knew at the time why Moira had fallen off the face of the earth.

Moira touched the glass covered image, focusing on it again. A moment that had defined her life and her work. It was surprising to see it here, framed in Angela’s home, given Moira’s place in it. Given Angela’s public denouncing of Moira’s work and involvement in Blackwatch in front of the UN. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who kept that memory prized in her head.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t regretted the kiss they’d shared after the picture had been taken and the others had left. When they’d been alone in the lab again and quietly expressed that this wouldn’t have been possible without the other. The soft kiss that they had quickly broken away from. That they had blamed on excitement and alcohol. The one Angela had laughed off and Moira had made snarky quips about to make her laugh more. So Angela would forget that Moira had been the one to move first and instigate it, losing perspective and control for a second too long.

If she closed her eyes and thought about it she could just barely remember slightly chapped lips against hers, warm skin under her fingers, how soft that platinum hair was…

And just as quickly she shut that line of thinking down.

No. She couldn’t entertain those thoughts and memories. Moira set the frame down again with a soft sigh and moved away, into a high backed chair. She was here to see a doctor, not to relive her life or pry into Angela’s. The past was the past. The best she could hope for from Angela at this point was indifference. Distrust and disgust was far more likely. And it was better that way, assuming she still agreed to help. Either way, she should find out soon enough when Angela finally woke.


	2. Piled Higher and Deeper

There was something somewhat surreal about being led around a high-tech facility by a hyper intelligent gorilla. It felt like something out of science-fiction. Still, there was a small part of Angela from when she’d been a child that absolutely adored it. Overwatch by itself was not something she was entirely comfortable with. A military organization keeping the peace? Oxymoron. But she’d grown up on various forms of fiction like most children. Stories about thoughtful people using their sharp minds to solve problems had fascinated her young mind. Having a co-worker who just so happened to be a seven foot tall gorilla was exactly the kind of thing she would read about in one of her mother’s old paperbacks. Her reservations on Overwatch could remain intact even while her desire to hug the furry physicist begged to be free.

“This is where most of the wet labs are located. Excepting the biocon labs that were over in the east wing.” Winston’s chipper baritone pulled her out of her daydream, “It’s ok if you don’t remember your way around at first. Even I still get a little turned around sometimes.” He paused at a door, smiling in what she could tell was supposed to be reassurance. His face wasn’t exactly built to make human expressions despite the similarities, but she could tell he was trying and she smiled in return with a nod. Winston had been a lovely guide. They likely wouldn’t be working much together but she could tell why he’d been asked to show her around. Imposing height and muscles be damned, the man was a nerdy teddy bear.

Was ‘man’ the correct term? She’d have to ask him sometime. When she knew him better.

He pressed his ID card to the scanner to let them into one of the empty labs, stepping forward as the door slid open to show her around as he had done with the others. His broad shoulders always looked like they weren’t going to easily make it through the door frames and she kept finding herself clenching in suspense. Waiting for the body-suit or modified lab coat he wore to snag on something, but it never did.

The lab’s lights blinked to life when they sensed movement. Was that whirring noise from them? No, that sounded more like a machine...

“The labs are all somewhat standard, but if you can’t find something you need you can ask Athena. If a lab is reserved for a particular project you’ll see the sign on the door. If you’re not sure just ask Athena and she’ll let you know. You can use your comm or ask someone if you’re unsure or get lost. Everyone’s happy to help. Especially Athena.” Winston smiled a little with a snort of laughter, moving over to let her look around the large room. It was much like the ‘dry’ labs she’d already been to. A couple of desks set into the wall with holo-terminals, four island counters with various workstations and equipment, and-

Was that a pair of shoes propped up on a stool?

She padded towards them. The smart kitten-heels she wore clicking against the linoleum floor as she came to peer around the last island work station.

A lanky figure was leaning back in one of the rolling chairs that belonged to the desks, their feet propped up on the stool meant for the work station. Their arms were crossed over their chest and head lolled to the side, half on their shoulder in their sleep. They had been hidden by the island’s shelving. Next to them on the counter sat an empty sample tray and a thick folder. The separator that was the source of the hum she’d heard when they first entered was ticking away as the person slept in their stiff position.

That position couldn’t be good for their neck.

“Oh dear.”

Angela near jumped out of her skin. Between her focus on the ginger person in the chair and the thrum of the equipment she hadn’t heard Winston come up next to her to see what had caught her attention. She let out a quiet breath as her heart slowed again.

“We should leave her be.” He said quietly, motioning back towards the door.

“She’s going to do herself an injury like this. Aren’t there shift-bunks you were telling me about if someone needs to nap?” Angela stepped towards the chair, unaware of Winston’s growing nervousness.

“We do, but Dr. O’Deorain isn’t really the type to like being woken… Better we just tell her later.”

Angela shook her head. Honestly. Bad habits like this led to problems down the line. She didn’t hesitate to reach down and grab the woman’s shoulder, shaking her lightly.

The sharp, mismatch glare that rounded on her from the suddenly stiff body was almost enough to make her courage and surety falter. Almost. But not quite.

 

But it wasn’t fear of a glare that made Angela hesitate to rouse the sleeping woman in her living room. If anything a glare would be welcome. If this woman had the audacity to glare at her after breaking into her home, Angela wouldn’t think twice to slap the look off her face and throw her bodily from the premises.

She didn’t hesitate because she was afraid of violence or threat either. If for whatever reason Moira wanted to cause her harm she’d had every opportunity to do so. Angela had been asleep for most of the day. Vulnerable and oblivious. The redhead had already done the hard part by breaking in without setting off the house-alarm. Come to that she wasn’t actually all that worried about how Moira had gotten in, though she really felt like she should be. The door? The window? Hacked the security system? Appeared in a puff of smoke and a mad cackle? Angela wouldn’t put it past a former member of Blackwatch to know how to do such things.

No, she was hesitating because long ago Moira had been used to Angela shaking her gently awake from wherever she was cat-napping. Instead of glares Angela had gotten used to receiving bleary questions, quick thank yous, and even once a sleepy smile that had made her chest ache uncomfortably.

Angela was not sure she wanted any of those again.

Moira had always looked alarmingly innocent and vulnerable in her sleep compared to her more dignified and closed off expressions when she was awake. Face relaxed, feet propped up on whatever convenient surface, arms crossed over her chest or stomach to keep them from falling limp… She really was like a cat the way she could just relax and sleep almost anywhere at any time. And just like with any other sleeping animal, Angela had always had to resist the urge to pet that orange hair and bother her.

She’d never been entirely sure if that urge had been born out of her affection or irritation for the geneticist.

But she’d been standing here, contemplating what to do with the squatter for the last ten minutes to no conclusion. She didn’t have forever. Any moment now, if Angela didn’t wake her then the knock on the front door when her food was delivered was definitely going to do the job for her. Moira wasn’t that heavy of a sleeper.

… And that position definitely wasn’t good for her neck.

Angela decided on a happy middle ground. She opened her mouth and in a firm, sharp tone barked, “ _Moira._ ”

The response was satisfactory and immediate. The older woman sat bolt upright in a way that made it clear she didn’t remember drifting off. The claws of her right hand dug into the upholstery of the chair in a way that made Angela frown. She liked that chair.

Moira looked up at her blearily, then at the window where the warm glow of the setting sun was filtering through… Then at Angela again, looking a bit like a confused meerkat.

It seemed that even after over a decade habits didn’t change that much. It was obvious that Moira had been asleep quite a while if she was this out of it. She’d only ever slept more then three or four hours at a time if she was feeling unwell. Just how long had the interloper been passed out on her furniture?

Last night had just been a nightmare… hadn’t it?

Angela used her irritation to quell anxiety, pushing lingering nerves down firmly as she placed her hands on her hips and stared down at the other woman.

“You have thirty seconds to explain yourself, O’Deorain.”

To her credit, Moira was still cool under fire. The demand didn’t bring about fear or anger, Angela knew it would take much more than that to drag out her temper. But it was still fascinating to watch the woman shift from sleepy confusion to all business and poise like she hadn’t just been threatening to drool on her own shoulder a moment previously.

“Dr. Ziegler.” Moira started, voice rough with sleep, “My apologies to have disturbed you in your home like this.”

Angela didn’t miss the fact that those words sounded rehearsed. Her eyebrows rose though. Breaking in and then asking forgiveness? Why was she reminded of when Moira had done the same to her office to steal her snacks?

“This ought to be good.” Was Angela’s flat response as she crossed her arms, “Twenty seconds.” Not that she was actually counting.

There was a flash of irritation in those mismatched eyes, but it was quickly brushed aside as Moira stood, smoothing out her shirt and pants as she did, “I require help in a matter of some urgency and delicacy.”

Angela couldn’t be sure if the faint fear at Moira suddenly towering over her showed on her face or if her expression had held firm. Inside, her stomach had dropped. It wasn’t the nightmare. Moira was obviously not here to do anything to her. But the words still echoed in her head along with the image of Moira’s shadow stretching out over her, ready to rip her to pieces…

_Please explain how **you** let this happen._

“If you think I’m going to be bullied, begged, or intimidated into doing something for you, Moira, you are very mistaken. _Ten seconds_.” It came out cold and harsh. Her knuckles were white on her arms but she tried to at least snarl and look unafraid. Rational mind said that, push came to shove, she could absolutely take Moira in a fight. She was a doctor, a surgeon, and a combat medic. She just simply had to have the muscles to back up what she needed to do… But that didn’t mean it was likely Moira would turn this into a physical altercation. Rational mind was delicately trying to appease the need to defend herself while also laying out the realities of the situation.

Irrational mind was hitting every alarm bell it could find and sobbing in distress.

Moira’s mouth thinned and Angela braced for the snarl and sharp comeback, heart already beating hard.

But instead of saying anything more, Moira’s fingers reached up. She wasn’t wearing a tie, and the button-up wasn’t the stiff cotton that she’d always worn back in their days in the labs and was instead a deep red silk. She must be doing well for herself. Moira didn’t look away from her as she started to pull the buttons of it apart. Angela wasn’t sure what the hell she was playing at now and neither rational or irrational mind had anything besides ‘...what?’ to add to this conversation at first as she stood, dumb-struck, staring back.

Fear drained completely into alarmed confusion as more and more pale skin was slowly revealed as the third and fourth button came loose. The only saving grace for modesty seemed to be that there was a tank top underneath.

Irrational mind rejoined the conversation by wondering if that and the bra would that be coming off next.

Moira’s expression didn’t change as Angela’s now panicked look darted between the buttons and those intent, mismatched eyes, “Moira- O’Deorain, what the hell are you do-”

The purple hand reached towards Moira’s unbuttoned collar and the hem of the tanktop, tugging them down and to the side with a jerk, just barely showing the black lace edge of the cup of her bra.

Angela had been privy to Moira’s research, her findings and what remained of her documentation of the failed experiment she had done on herself. Angela had been asked to help dissect what had been left behind in both Overwatch and Blackwatch when Moira disappeared for the internal investigation. She’d never seen the damage in anything other then lab footage. Never above the elbow or in great detail… But she knew it must have hurt. She had never seen Moira weep like she had on the tapes.

However she was absolutely sure that the dark purple veins pressing out from the pale skin of Moira’s chest and collarbone were not an original part of the damage The skin around them was red and irritated. This change was newer. Much newer. They slithered from her shoulder and towards her heart. She’d almost take it for a necrotic infection.

The two women stood there. Moira watching Angela, Angela watching Moira’s pulse beat steadily through the dark purple lines.

“What-”

The sound of the doorbell made both of them jump in surprise.

“Did you already call the police?” Moira asked tightly, tugging her shirt closed a little and eyeing the front door.

“No.” Angela admitted, to startled for games, “Just… Go sit in the kitchen. And button your shirt. Honestly. I thought maybe you’d be a little less dramatic after all this time to mature.” She turned away, headed for the door as the bell rang again.

She heard Moira scoff behind her, but ignored it

 

Moira stepped away from the livingroom and into the kitchen, slowly redoing the buttons on her shirt, smoothing the material as she finished. It didn’t help the set-in wrinkles at all. She must have been asleep quite a while. Dramatic? Angela had been the one to start counting like Moira was an unruly child. It had just seemed far more prudent to show rather then continue to speak when Angela obviously wasn’t listening.

Moira looked around the space as she waited for whatever Angela was dealing with to go away. The blonde had always been one to tidy up after herself but the kitchen barely looked used. Not surprising she supposed, considering Angela seemed to have spent the better part of the last decade traveling around being a hero doctor. Not that she had been keeping tabs on her exactly… But headlines about ‘Mercy’ cropped up and Moira was a naturally curious person. She’d read them… and then go back to what she was doing. That was hardly stalking. She’d only known Angela would be here because Sombra had confirmed it.

She ignored the table and chairs Angela had probably meant for her to sit at to instead begin opening cabinets, hunting down a glass and taking it to the sink. She’d only taken her first sip of water when Angela came back to the kitchen, a delivery bag in her arms that she set on the table. Moira watched her start to pull out her food silently, leaning back against the sink.

She’d started aging with surprising grace; actually it was hard to notice the little things that had aged about her at all. There were some. The girlish roundness was gone from her face. Her hands seemed stronger somehow… And her body had shifted too. She’d hardly been a child before but a young twenty-somethings body was different than that of a woman pushing forty. Still… Hardly a wrinkle on her face. She must have one hell of a skin-care routine. Even Moira was showing some crows feet and lines.

Hadn’t she agreed to put these thoughts away?

She was helped along with this redirection of thought by Angela pointing to the chair opposite hers and firmly saying, “Sit.”

“After being in a plane and sleeping on a chair I’d rather-”

“I do not care what you would rather.” Angela gave a long suffering sigh, “I do not want to feel loomed over and you broke in so you’ll humor me. Sit.”

Moira blinked owlishly, then did as she was told and sat on the chair, water glass sat on the table in front of her. Angela had never been a pushover but this… It was more than just the anger and disgust that she’d seen on the blonde’s face when she’d woken up. Angela would probably be able to give Ana pause with an unbending tone like that.

“You came to me for help.” It wasn’t a question but Moira nodded, starting to gather herself again as Angela continued, “Are you dying?”

“... Not exactly.” Moira thumbed the condensation growing on the side of her glass, “How much do you actually know?”

“About your arm? I wasn’t just part of the PR to throw you and the rest of Blackwatch under the bus. I was asked to lead the team sorting through your personal wreckage.” Angela’s tone held a constant level of irritation that Moira had heard before, back when they shared a lab and Moira would say or do something that would leave Angela’s ire stewing for days.

When Overwatch had originally had her ‘dismissed’ to Blackwatch all her work, notes, everything she’d worked on under them had been ‘frozen’. Partly to keep any more of it leaking out to the public after she’d published and the reaction had been universally negative. Gabriel had seen that she’d been given access anyway to continue it under his watchful eye. But once Blackwatch had been dug out after Gabe’s inevitable fall from grace all of it had been lost. Everything but a small hard-copy drive she’d literally buried to conceal until she could come back for it later, “I don’t think I kept everything in my notes at that time.”

Angela gave her a flat look, “Get to it, O’Deorain. I’m not calling the police but I’m certainly not convinced I shouldn’t kick you out.”

Moira’s irritation flared with a selfish mental retort. Would it be so much to ask for a hint that she had been missed? That their friendship had been rocky but at least it had meant something to the Swiss woman? It had meant something to Moira. She hadn’t broken contact because she wanted to. She’d had little option but Blackwatch and that came with the stipulation that her contacts whittled down to near zero. Angela didn’t have to want anything to do with her but this wall of spikes was grating in more ways the one. Even if Moira was sorry for something she’d done she was not the kind to bow and scrape and take the anger on the chin like a martyr.

“I’m not dying but I am at risk of becoming genetically unstable. Death is a possible but not guaranteed outcome.” She replied tersely, looking more at the glass then at Angela. It meant she almost missed the way Angela’s hands faltered over her food. Almost. Very little escaped her notice. Even less escaped her memory.

“That was a possible side-effect. Nothing you wrote seemed to indicate it would happen at any faster a rate than the average person.” She started with a surprising amount of delicacy.

Moira looked up at her, sighed, “It was a side-effect I was aware of when I underwent the procedure. I’ve been working off and on for the last decade on solutions to the issue so I could proceed with a more complete procedure to erase it entirely. My experiment was a preliminary success but it couldn’t be applied to the whole body or-”

“Success?” Angela breathed in disbelief, “Moira, I watched those tapes. What you did to yourself, your notes... How can you call that a success? You mutilated yourself!”

Irritation and satisfaction mixed in Moira’s gut. Oh, she wasn’t an fool living on hope of being understood, she’d expected Angela to have come to this conclusion. Even if she’d prefer to be pleasantly surprised by a congratulations for her obvious success. But she had always felt rather superior to the others that filled Angela’s life in a very specific way. Moira wasn’t fooled by the wunderkind persona Angela had tried to live under. The doctor really did empathise for others, it was just on a cognitive level more than an emotional one. How else could she have sustained being not just any field medic but the ‘Mercy’ herself. The one you sent in when all hope was lost because she’d keep your team from the jaws of death. She’d suspected that Amari, Reyes, and Morrison might have had an inkling but turned a blind eye to it. They rightly assumed it would do little harm.

Angela was completely capable of feeling little when looking at someone who had fallen from her good graces. If they meant nothing to each other now… Angela wouldn’t be upset about Moira’s welfare in the slightest. Moira had been somewhat prepared for that, bringing logical reasons as to why Angela might still help her. Bargaining chips… But it was a relief to know that wasn’t the case.

God, it was pathetic how far she’d reach to rationalize Angela giving any amount of a shit about her. They’d once been friendly. That was all. And now Moira was in need of medical assistance, not a friend. Professional. This was supposed to be professional.

“I didn’t mutilate myself. My experiment was a success. I aimed to prove that rapid, controlled genetic alteration was possible. And I did.” She held up her claw-tipped violet hand. It was an interesting side-effect, the more visual side of the slight alterations she’d made to herself, “Fundamentally altered flesh, not only is it far more resilient and resistant to damage, it’s accelerated cell growth is-”

“-Is now _trying to expand into the rest of you!_ ” Angela hissed, dropping her spoon down into the curry in front of her with no regard for it, “Just because you managed your goal does not make it a success! You were always so damn tunnel visioned about this kind of thing!”

Moira watched the utensil sink into the mixed rice rather then retort in an attempt not to yell in frustration at, again, not being listened to. Count to ten. An argument wasn’t going to gain her anything. But Angela marched on in her building anger.

“And when you finally decide to show up on my doorstep it’s to beg my help in saving you from yourself! Tell me why I should Moira. Why shouldn’t I just let you be a lesson for the history books on untempered ego?”

Moira would be angry, she’d be absolutely livid… But she couldn’t miss the water in Angela’s eyes that she was trying not to let fall. This wasn’t anger purely over the science or their responsibility to ethical practices. This was an emotional, hurt anger. Doubling down on proving that Angela still cared, in some capacity. In all fairness Moira was still irritated. But now she knew why Angela was running her over. Emotional self defense. Fight or flight, and as usual Angela had foolishly chosen fight. Not that Moira had given her a lot of choice…

While Angela stared, waiting for her answer, Moira finally laced her fingers together on the table-top, letting herself relax out of irritation before she spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

The blonde across from her waited. But whatever she was waiting for wasn’t coming. Moira didn’t qualify her apology with anything. No rebuttal, no excuses, no dismissal.

“What for?” She finally demanded a little stiffly. But her voice was lacking the edge or volume it had before.

“I disappeared. Added to the horrible situation that was the UN hearings and the Petras act… And then I never got in touch with you, even just to apologize properly. Even if I wasn’t your closest friend... You were mine. I remember how you would worry after everyone even if you knew what they were doing, so no matter what you feel about me now I know I caused you distress in the past. Not all of these were fully my doing or intention but I had the opportunity to rectify that situation years ago and didn’t. So, Angela, I’m sorry. Genuinely.”

Silence reigned in the kitchen. Angela’s expression might have been one of someone who had been shot, teary eyes dried in shock. Moira half expected to quietly be asked to leave. She was bracing for it even. Trying to figure out what the hell she would do if Angela wouldn’t help her…

It was the soft voice she was expecting… But not the words.

“... So what wasn’t in your notes?”


	3. Compartmentalize

What was not in her notes was all of her time at Blackwatch. 

“Which will take quite a lot of explaining. I have the few notes that survived the purge of Overwatch’s dissolving but I wasn’t able to keep even half of them. Two years worth of non-stop work... The stabilizations I made to myself, advancements in the gene altering process, what I learned from subject specific procedures I ran on others. Blood, sweat, and tears tossed away like it was nothing. Philistines.”

“What others?” Angela asked, mouth thinning into a harsh line.

“Please soothe your tone, Ziegler. I can count on one hand the number of unsanctioned human trials I’ve run that weren’t on myself.” Her own fault for saying it so plainly. God did she not want to talk about it. She just wanted to talk about her current situation. Those experiments had no bearing on the present except for what clarification it offered to the data she already had. The only reason to talk about the history of the work rather then just going with her more recent work was because obviously she had missed _something_. Anything could be the factor she’d failed to take into account.

What little she had done to others that hadn’t been done under the guidelines of Oasis’s ethics boards had rarely been by her choice and rarely been to her own desires. Yes, the results could be fascinating and her glee at a hypothesis coming to fruition was exhilarating. She had hardly been grinding her teeth through the process… But they hadn’t been lines of thought or choices she’d make had she been left to her own devices. Especially not under the conditions she did so.

That and she knew that talking about them would only cause Angela distress.

“But you have run them on others. Who was it?” The blonde demanded calmly, leaning forward.

“... Do you know what it was like for me to work in Blackwatch, Angela?” She suddenly hissed, irritation rising, though her temper still mostly in check, “My career, at that point, seemed over due to the unfounded fears and outright lies of the broader scientific community and Overwatch itself. I had no choice but to take what was offered. And what was offered was a small room, a lab, and a training regime to be a field agent I had never wanted to be. I couldn’t contact my family. I couldn’t speak to anyone outside of Blackwatch and even within Blackwatch what I could say was limited except for Reyes. I did not see the naked sky except when I was dragged out on the odd mission. It was two years of being Reyes’s personal, all but imprisoned, lab-monkey. Ask _him_ about it if you’re so very interested.”

Angela’s anger had faded down into confusion and disquiet, “... But McCree and Genji-”

“Oh yes, they got to wander about with impunity. Especially Genji because he couldn’t be completely taken out of your care for quite some time if I recall. Their existence couldn’t be hidden or denied so easily. And why would it need to be? They weren’t being forced to turn Gabriel into a murder machine behind closed doors.”

The kitchen became silent enough to hear the water in the pipes. Moira could have kicked herself. How eloquent a way to answer Angela’s question on just who she’d been augmenting with her altered nano-biotics.

Angela’s expression didn’t shift very much. Moira expected her to be angry. She and Reyes had been friendly enough, long ago, if only through the lens of Jack and Ana. But when Angela spoke it was almost with a tone intended to comfort.

“I remember what he was like… Towards the end. I thought it was just the Venice incident that had everyone on edge… But I knew something was very wrong when he approached me a week before the accident at headquarters. He knew I’d been arguing with Jack and Ana a lot. That I was unhappy with how Overwatch had used our research and my technology. I remember him trying to to sound casual as he asked if I wanted to team up with him and just get rid of Jack and Ana. ‘Cut the problem out at the root’ He said… And I let him play it off as a frustrated joke. I just.. I had never been very close with him before that so I just let it go… I didn’t even report it to… well, to anyone.”

She ran a hand over her face and Moira swore Angela looked five years older still at that admission. Older and exhausted. It was all she could do not to reach across the table and take the younger woman’s hand in reassurance.

“I didn't know you'd been fighting with them… I don't remember you much fighting with anyone.” Even they had never really been that bad. Squabbles and sarcasm had never led to more than a handful of times where Moira had lost her temper and only half those times she'd been vindicated in doing so. The other half she had ended up apologising for. In her own way.

Angela’s expression flattened and for all the exhaustion and irritation she’d showed a moment ago now she just looked distant as she spoke, “They authorised the use of alternating charge weapons. Able to heal and hurt. You remember what the negative charge did to the biotics? With Torbjorns help they managed to make a few prototypes before everything went up in smoke.” 

Moira's mouth thinned. Torbjorn had always grated her. Too focused on his own ego. Brilliant engineer… but she couldn't say she had the stomach for prolonged conversation.

But she knew that he had taken Angela in when her parents died. He was as much an uncle to her as Reinhardt was. If he had gone against her wishes... That must have hurt. Deeply.

“So… You believe me? The how and why of my stint in Blackwatch?” The best Moira could do was to shift the conversation away from those painful memories at least. Push them more towards the present.

Angela looked up at her and for a brief second Moira thought she might smile at the childishness of her question, “You’ve always been a lot of things Moira but… No, you’ve never been one to lie.” She paused, thinking about that and then corrected herself, “Unless it was by omission.”

“Obscuring or twisting the truth is never my go-to method.” Moira nodded, feeling… incredibly light and relieved.

“That doesn’t mean I’m happy with you.” Angela put in stubbornly, “... But yes, I believe that you’re not lying to me.”

The red-head actually did smile faintly as she nodded, “Of course.”

 

There was a lot to go through. Though the bedrock for the science was a decade old it still was complex, as you’d expect anything involving gene-editing to be. They spent the better part of the evening just sorting through facts from the original experiment. She explained the acceleration of cellular growth to combat decay and damage. How it had been a rather roaring success despite the side effects; Her thickened and pigment altered skin and the armor-esk keratin deposits (that she had further augmented).

It was easy to fall into old habits of their back and forth, the questions and answers, the sarcastic jabs batted away with dry humor.

Painfully easy. 

Perhaps it was the same reason that she behaved more like her younger self when she went home to visit her sister. Maybe it was simply the natural way she and Angela fit together… Or didn’t quite as the case may be. They were much like parallel lines. Going in the same direction, always in the same vicinity… But never intersecting properly. Always for one reason or another.

Moira simply had to accept the fact that they probably never would. Actually accept it because the current course had her constantly trying to strangle out any personal feelings that cropped up like insistent weeds. She’d gotten what she wanted, acknowledgement that she hadn’t completely fallen out of Angela’s good graces. That their partnership long ago had meant something to her. Now would it be too much to ask for that to be enough? For her to be content and carry on like the professional she was?

Nobody had accused Moira of ever being content.

Angela's words and little movements and her intense expressions and her confident posture and her ridiculous rabbit-print sleep pants and her hair tumbling over her shoulder..

It was impossible to say Moira wasn’t affected by her in ways completely outside of her control. Lack of control was a show of weakness. It wasn’t weak to apologize when she decided she should. It wasn’t weak to accept compromises or change your conclusions based on new data. But Moira would sooner marry a man and become a housewife then admit such a weakness out loud.

Angela wearing pyjamas all evening did not help honestly. It felt like they were having some strange version of a sleepover. Like they weren’t twelve years estranged pseudo-friends and this was your average thursday evening for them. She’d ask the woman to go change but… It was very doubtful that the threat to be thrown out was completely off the table, even with their small heart to heart earlier.

“So… What changed and when? If this had been growing for a while it doesn’t really seem like the kind of thing you’d sit on for ten years and finally show up like it was an emergency...” They had moved out to the living room, Angela on the chair that Moira had been asleep on as if to reclaim it, Moira perched at the far end of the couch with one knee over the other comfortably.

“The expanding mutation, you mean?” Moira tapped her shirt near her collarbone with a claw-like nail.

Angela nodded, “Everything we’ve talked about, the experiment, the stabilizing methods you implemented over the two years in Blackwatch… Nothing seems to indicate that it would spread, let alone do so suddenly.”

“It didn’t. This is a direct cause of my own continued work in the last year. Eight years was apparently not enough enough time or data to cover all possibilities.” 

“What went wrong? Wouldn’t another geneticist have been a better person to go to?” She asked earnestly, chewing her lip, “I learned quite a lot about the subject while working with you but it’s not my field. I thought you’d have access to all the best help in Oasis. Didn’t you end up out there?”

“I’m still trying to pinpoint what went wrong. It’s one of the areas I want another set of eyes on to make sure nothing is missed. I need someone who knows more of the medical side and knows the technology. It’s still using nano-biotic as a delivery and implementation tool. While I do have a lot of esteem for my colleagues... I need someone I can trust.”

Moira kept her face neutral when Angela stared at her. Confusion, disbelief, irritation, exasperation… Angela’s expression finally settled on pointed questioning.

“We haven’t seen each other for over a decade, Moira. You can’t butter me up like that. Just say you think I’m the best fit for the job rather than implying… that.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Moira laced her fingers over her lap. Personal desires would make her correct Angela. Explain that she had known what she was saying and meant it. That they could wait another decade and it would still be true. Time wouldn’t erase who Angela was. Even if she now seemed far more cynical… The woman Moira had struggled to keep her mind off of all those years ago was still there. An immovable object. A solid net-positive on the scale despite her flaws.

But this was supposed to be professional.

“I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to mislead you. I trust your intelligence and skill. Especially when it comes to technology you helped develop.”

 

Angela sighed, looking away briefly as she tried to force herself to relax in her chair, “Forgive me for not taking the compliment considering who it’s coming from.”

That shouldn’t hurt.

It just shouldn’t. Moira wasn’t the type to be stingy or extravagant with her compliments. When she said that she respected and admired someone’s work she meant it. And once upon a time, hearing that kind of thing out of her mouth would have caused Angela a thrill of pride. She’d never needed Moira’s validation… But coming from her it had felt far more weighty then from a lot of other people in her life.

Angela hadn’t been sure what answer she had wanted more. The one she had come to or the one Moira had initially implied. But it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. It hadn’t mattered until she’d heard the words out of the older woman’s mouth. After an evening of feeling flung backwards in time to fairly happy days… It was just fucking with her objectivity.

Moira broke the sudden heavy silence with a stiff question, “... Will you help me?”

“I don’t really have the facilities to do anything about it. You’d have to get me into Oasis.” She wasn’t exactly saying yes. Not yet. But part of her knew it was a formality. She might have had the outburst earlier about letting whatever fate befall her come to be… But Moira wasn’t her enemy. She wasn’t some evil needing to be stopped. Angela wasn’t known as ‘Mercy’ just because it was an idiotic name picked for her by her strike commander. She’d found it extremely patronizing and manipulative at first, despite Jack’s intention for it to be a beacon of hope. In the end it had grown on her enough that she still used it. Switzerland was also rather fond of it. They were very proud of their guardian angel.

For what that was worth.

“I’m sure I could manage that. I’m minister of Genetics.”

“I know. It came up on the tour.” She admitted, “They said you partnered regularly with the Ministry of Medicine on research and development. I’ve just heard otherwise it’s difficult to gain access without coming to work for the city.”

Moira would know what that meant, she was sure. She’d hardly been a simple tourist. She’d been there to humor an invitation to join their Ministry of Medicine a few years ago. She’d been hesitant. Not just because of Moiras presence, though she couldn’t deny that it had played it’s part. She’d stayed out of a lab that she hadn’t been privately renting for a long time simply due to the fact that the last time she’d worked for someone they’d taken her technology and made weapons. 

She could still remember the terror and pain in the face of the boy who had fallen apart in her hands. It didn’t matter that he was Talon. Ana’s disinterest in her outrage had only added fuel to the fire.

Just one point of many on the list of things she wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive Overwatch for.

Oasis was far more interested in the pursuit of a better tomorrow… But she had still declined their offer. Too risky. Her technology would not be abused again. She hadn’t missed the fact that they had a Mil-tech division, even if it wasn’t a proper ministry.

Surprisingly, Moira did not look surprised, or question her about it, “Then you know I can get you access quite easily. I hardly have impunity but being on a ruling body has its perks. So?”

Angela debated being difficult. So what, Moira?

But… It was just being childish at this point.

“I’ll help you. Rather, I’ll give it a look. I’m still not convinced I’ll be able to help like you think. I can’t promise anything.”

Moira’s shoulders relaxed as she let out a held breath. Angela looked away, trying to convince herself she didn’t notice. Didn’t feel the weight of Moira’s faith in her.

“Thank you, Angela.”

There was nothing to thank her for yet and a very real possibility that she’d let the older woman down. If Moira couldn’t figure this out in eight damn years how the hell was Angela supposed to on a much shorter timer?

Moira had always been intimidating. At first it was just because she was cold and methodical and cut an imposing figure. But that image had broken completely after a certain incident that had Moira swearing Angela to secrecy. Moira’s penchant for glaring and being sarcastic had actually become endearing after the doctor had learned how little it spoke to her actual mood. After that she thought she wouldn’t be able to take the older woman seriously. She’d been wrong. 

Moira’s intelligence hadn’t been the intimidating part in the end like someone might expect. Angela had felt capable and sure in her own field even if she was much younger. But the fact that Moira had had a life outside of her work… Interests outside of her lab… Had a family…

It had thrown into sharp relief that there was a real person behind that first impression.

That wasn’t something Angela had. She’d been too buried into academia, then medical school, then work, then Overwatch. Even now that she had control over her life completely and she had some cushion from her reputation, she still didn’t take the time to have anything outside of her work. Sometimes she entertained the idea that she was secretly an omnic Torbjorn had created and given false memories. Such a stupid thing had made her feel so inadequate in the face of Moira’s ability to spend her weekends pursuing her hobbies and then come in on monday and cure cancer.

Angela couldn’t even find a hobby she enjoyed.

Chocolate didn’t count. She couldn’t speak passionately on the merits of a fermented seed like Moira had on her favorite media.

It’d been the first time she’d actually admired Moira. Sitting at the little table in their shared office, drinking rapidly cooling coffee, wrapped in a huge sweater that barely kept the chill at bay, watching Moira’s hands move around wildly as she spoke on the history and tropes of her favorite franchises. Angela might never have heard about any of it her whole life if not for Moira’s enthusiasm, many had come out before either of them had even been born. She was so animated, so pleased and passionate. It was beautiful.

It had made her want to join in… And it had made her feel like an outsider looking in. That feeling was far too common. It had become an old friend by the time she was sixteen. It had been acceptable until that conversation. Until she’d met someone who was in many ways like herself, if not exactly. After that conversation it had made her want to try… Something. Anything. Whatever it took to stop feeling like she was nothing but her work. She’d found it in small ways with the help of friends made… But it had taken too long. Moira had been long gone by that point.

She could just make out the distantly familiar smell of Moira still lingering on the chair, hidden only slightly by a perfume that Angela didn’t recognize. The space in the old office had been so small and they spent so much time in it that the scent of brown sugar that Moira added to her coffee and her own natural smell could reach her even at her desk across the room. Scent was a gateway to memory. That was why she couldn’t stop thinking about the past. 

What did it matter if Moira was a cartoon enthusiast? What did it matter that Angela’s attempt at being human hadn’t panned out to match her passion? It didn’t. Angela had done a lot more good focusing on her mission, going where she was needed, then Moira had safe in her stupid golden city. It didn’t matter that Moira was still beautiful. She’d keep her distance or Angela would-

“Angela?”

She jumped, looking up, confused, “What?”

Moira looked her over, raising an eyebrow, “I was asking how much time you’d need to prepare to leave.”

Angela felt her cheeks burn in irritation and embarrassment, “It’s late. I’ll be ready to leave tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock. Go find a hotel if you can.”

Moira nodded, standing. Angela flinched when she heard the tall woman’s knees pop.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Knock next time please. I still have a gun you know.” Angela got up only so she could be sure that the door was properly locked when Moira was gone.

“How impersonal. I was sure that if it came to it you’d strangle me with your bare hands, not shoot me. God knows I thought you might a few times back at Overwatch.”

Angela moved past her into the foyer and opened the door, “I suppose that depends on if old age has made you more or less insufferable.” She gestured out into the dark night pointedly.

Moira didn’t seem to take it personally in the slightest, in fact she smiled again. That hadn’t been Angela’s intention. It was extremely difficult to maintain irritation and separation when the tall redhead was less than an arm's-length away and grinning at her. Cheeky bitch.

“I suppose I’ll leave that to your professional judgement, Dr Zeigler.” Moira held out her left hand to shake. It made her wonder if she did that for everyone or was trying not to give Angela any discomfort.

Angela looked down at it for a moment in silence, a different conflict rising in her throat. Nightmare clinging to the back of her brain.

Professional judgment? A medical doctor, a scientist, doesn’t let subconscious thought control their actions.

Almost defiantly she held out her right hand instead, looking up at Moira in a silent demand for that mutated limb instead. She was rewarded with the sight of the geneticists eyes flickering between her hand and face in disquiet, her smile faltering.

Moira let her left hand drop back to her side and carefully slid those rough, lavender-blue fingers around hers. Angela was actually a little alarmed at how warm they were. It made her feel cold in comparison. The only cool parts she could feel were under her fingertips, the tougher, thicker ridges along the back of her hand and fingers like ribboned circuitry. She hadn’t exactly thought through the fact that the hyperactive cell-regeneration would cause the natural temperature of the limb to rise.

But she managed to push through her shock to firmly shake that strange hand before she let go.

It was a little harder to resist the urge to rub her own hands together to free her of the sensation.

Moira gave her an odd look but said nothing. Only nodded curtly and left.

Angela let the door close quietly before she locked it and reset the alarm, finally taking a deep breath to calm her heartbeat down again.

 

“This is Dr. Moira O’Deorain. Our foremost expert on genetics.” Jack managed a smile for Angela. If she hadn’t already met the Irishwoman she’d have been confused by the forced nature of it, “I think Winston told you that she would be the one joining you on this project?”

Oh he had. Not that she’d needed his warnings. She'd gotten to experience the full brunt of O’Deorain irritation when they’d met for the first time. It was a year on and she’d seen nothing otherwise to tell her that it had been a fluke. But she was a professional. She’d get through this project even if she had to drag O’Deorain along with her kicking and screaming. This was simply too important for petty squabbles.

“It’s nice to be formally introduced, Dr Zeigler.” The woman said neutrally, holding out her hand, “When we first met I thought you were a particularly thick intern.”

Angela blinked, frowning in disbelief at her. She was going to start this now? Already? In front of _Jack_? They hadn’t even moved into the reserved office yet!

Fine.

There was no possible way that Angela was going to take that comment laying down. Even in front of the Strike Commander.

It was too easy to pin a bright smile to her face as she reached out and shook the geneticists hand for the first time, her fingers easily wrapped in the older woman’s longer ones, “And I thought you were a idiot with narcolepsy and a temper. We all make mistakes. I look forward to working with you Dr. O’Deorain.”

Moira’s fingers tightened around hers briefly and Jack looked like he was preparing to physically separate them. Those mismatched eyes bored down into Angela’s still calm and smiling stormy blue ones. 

But Moira caught them both off guard. She laughed, shaking Angela’s hand firmly as she chuckled with what seemed to be honest mirth. Jack looked caught between confused and unnerved by the sound. Angela was surprised by how melodious and rich it was.

“Yes, well, that still might be your opinion of me at the end of all this. I look forward to your report on the subject, Zeigler.”


	4. Retread

Moira watched her companion sifting through the files provided on her most recent experiments. The small shuttle was mostly empty. Only twenty seats total and they took two of the five occupied. There simply wasn’t enough traffic from Zurich to Oasis to need anything larger. At least they hadn’t needed to stop over in Paris or London just to catch a ride back on one of the larger Oasis airliners.

‘Back’... Like Angela belonged in Oasis.

Well, Moira would say that she did if asked about it but she’d been a bit surprised to hear about the doctors ‘tour’. You’d think someone would have informed her, even just in gossip, that the Angela Ziegler was in talks to join the city. She wasn’t that unsociable and her place as one of the ministers should have guaranteed that knowledge. If nothing else then out of courtesy, different ministries be damned. It wasn't a secret they'd worked together in the past. She could only assume the offer had been rejected by Angela. They wouldn’t invite someone there just to throw them out again, it was a waste of time and resources.

She was burning to know what about Oasis hadn’t appealed.

“You staring is not going to make me read any faster, O’Deorain.”

Moira sat back with a sigh as Angela gave her a flat look from the side. The older woman shrugged, “I was just wondering if I should get you a bag... Or have you gotten over your air-sickness?”

Angela’s faint blush of embarrassment gave Moira a little thrill. Irrational emotional responses were difficult to completely remove. Maybe if she gave up on trying to tamp down on her thoughts and just let herself think as she liked… Yes, as long as she didn’t act on it, it didn’t mean anything. Thought was not action.

Which was good because she was finding it impossible to deny that Angela was as attractive as she ever had been. And now that she was rounding the corner towards fourty… The age difference really meant very little at this point.

It was almost a relief for Moira to know she hadn’t just been lusting over a girl due to her youthful exuberance.

“I’m quite used to flying at this point, thank you.” Came Angela’s eventual irritated response.

Moira hummed, “I just wasn’t sure how well being used to wings on your own back translated to being in a plane.”

“Well enough.” She waved a hand dismissively, having already returned to the documentation she’d been looking over. That wasn’t a fun response. Moira didn’t reject the feeling of disappointment but she did stop herself from pouting about it. She turned away again to let the doctor read in peace.

“Moira... what is this supposed to mean?” Angela leaned over the empty seat between them to show her the gobbledygook string of letters at the end of a paragraph.

Moira only had to glance at it for a moment to know what it was and did her best to keep her face utterly neutral.

“That is the very scientific shorthand for ‘I fell asleep at my desk and pressed my face into the keys.” She glanced over, continuing dryly, “Highly technical, I know, but you can tell by how the ‘k’ is repeated at the end several times.”

It was worth it to have Angela give her a withering look and try to suppress a smile at the same time. It warped her mouth amusingly and made the glare all that more intense. It was funny that Moira managing to pull humor out of her only seemed to make Angela grumpier.

“You don’t edit your notes anymore?” She chastised.

Moira shook her head, “I’m not working for a paramilitary organization anymore. You never know what brilliant thoughts might be lost if you edited your notes. Besides, these are personal. I’d edit them if I was going to be publishing them.”

Angela sighed, “Your lack of editing is making it difficult to actually locate any ‘brilliant thoughts’. How do you even find anything in these when you need to?”

“I suppose the answer to that is why I’m a Minister of Oasis and you’re still Mercy.”

Moira’s smile tightened as she froze, rather realizing that her mouth had run away with her. She was too relaxed. Much too relaxed and fishing for more reactions. Maybe she’d have gotten off with a verbal warning back in the day but now… She was waiting for the axe to swing.

Angela stared a moment, then only hummed in mock thought, “Yes, I suppose actually helping the world does require me to be organized.”

Moira felt sweet relief pass through her… But then the comment caught up and she inhaled, frowning, affronted, “ _Actually helping people?_ Angela Ziegler, what the hell do you think I do all day, play tiddlywinks? My entire ministry is working not just on the progression of mankind, but also cleaning up the messes that modern medicine still hasn’t solved. Genetic diseases, canc-”

“Moira, if you’re going to get clever with me then you better be prepared to get as good as you give.” Angela was caught between irritation and laughter, no longer able to hide the smile Moira had been attempting to tease out before, “You used to be much better at that. Did becoming a Minister go to you head? Is no one around to talk back to the so very intimidating Dr. Moira O’Deorain?”

Moira opened her mouth to tell Angela that at least someone would have been around if she’d just accepted the damn invitation to join Oasis… But she closed her mouth again and tried to shift away from anything inflammatory.

“I’ll have you know I have a very good relationship with my underlings, thank you.”

“Oh? Did you finally work out the correct balance between terrorizing them and being grateful for the help?” Angela had settled into an actual smile now, seeming far more at ease. It was… Nice. She wasn’t fully relaxed exactly but this was as close to it as Moira had seen her sense they reunited.

“I’m no longer under intense scrutiny and pressure. It’s amazing what that does for one’s mood. It also helps that everyone directly below me and those who staff my personal labs are competent and confident.”

“Because that’s what you need in your life: more confidence.” She snorted, “Do any of them actually have the confidence to keep your feet on the ground?”

“As I recall you were always fairly confident and I didn’t have a problem with you, did I?” She smiled as well finally and let her head rest back on her chair, “Though, I suppose you were quite good at keeping me honest. I missed these little squabbles.”

That wasn’t… Too intensely personal right?

Angela’s smile had slipped away alarmingly fast. This was not an expression Moira had ever seen on the woman and it was immediately worrying. Angela’s face had become quite neutral but there were little things that were wrong. The slightly too wide unfocused stare, the way her brow knit together just enough to worry the skin between them, the tightening of her jaw… She looked afraid, but not of the plane or Moira. A more generalized horror Moira didn’t know.

Moira reached out and touched her shoulder, her voice soft, “Angela?”

The blonde jerked back slightly, focusing on Moira again, scowling, “But it wasn’t enough, was it? Not to keep you from messing everything up.” She rubbed her eyes tiredly, turning back to the notes again, “Just let me get through this. I’ll ask if I have any more questions.”

Moira wasn’t offended… She was confused. What wasn’t enough? Cocking what up? Asking just seemed like it was inviting trouble right now. Angela had the same tightness in her voice and shoulders that she’d had when she’d been counting down to throwing Moira out of her house. She’d sit on this itch to know, to understand what she was being accused of, for now… If only so that Angela could cool off and hopefully approach the topic a little more rationally.

Still, she was somewhat uncomfortable as she sat back in her chair and pulled out her comm to sort through any alerts or messages she’d received.

 

Angela had heard the alert from her comm almost an hour ago. She’d yet to check it, needing to focus on the work in front of her. She’d spent a lot of her time locked in her lab these days, interns scrambling in and out. She’d be tapped for the occasional mission but after the success of the Field Medical Response Suits backed by the power of the nano-biotic she was no longer so regularly required for her steady hands under pressure. Her own Valkyrie unit was still the most advanced (in her opinion) but the base models were perfectly fine for most things.

She couldn’t ignore the door to her lab opening though, overriding the quarantine lock she’d set in place. She looked up sharply, trying to see who had just broken protocol. Almost nobody was that stupid.

“Jack?” She carefully set down the fine tools she had been using on her opened Valkyrie suit, standing from the stool she’d been perched on to pull off her protective goggles.

But not just Jack, it was Jack and four security agents who had just walked through her lab door. Anger was lost from her mind as she looked over them all in confusion. The four guards spread. Two stood to either side of the closing door. The other two moved out to protective positions against the other walls. A formation meant to either hold something out or hold something in.

She was the only one here.

“... Jack?” She tried again when he didn’t respond to the first.

He came over to her. Over four years since her recruitment she’d watched his blonde hair slip away to silver and the lines on his face deepen. They were especially deep when he was troubled, as he was now, “Angela, sit down. We need to talk.”

She slowly sat back down on her stool, setting the goggles down on the table behind her. She glanced at the four guard, “... This isn’t another bomb threat, is it?”

He leaned back on the counter opposite and shook his head, “Don’t mind them. They’re literally just here so that I can tell the council we did it all by the book.”

Angela’s mouth thinned, “You need to tell me what’s going on. I didn’t have that quarantine lock on just to keep Lena from bothering me.”

“I can’t yet. Sorry. I need you to answer some questions first.”

Angela frowned deeply, but gave in with a sigh and nodded, “Just don’t come over here, I don’t want you breathing on a system and contaminating it. I'd close it up, but that would take at least another hour and I'm not finished yet.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure we can get it all done just like this.” Jack watched her for a moment before he started in with a voice she recognized as the one he used when interrogating someone. A soft start. That kind of tone that said ‘I’m just doing my job, but we’re still friends’.

She wasn’t sure she’d call Jack a friend of hers.

“Are you aware of Dr. O’Deorains recently published paper? The one about-”

“‘Creating Genetic Programs for Rapid Genetic Restructuring’. Yes. I read it.” She didn’t need to see the flood of emails that hit her inbox as the world took notice of it for her to know it was going to cause a hell of a hurricane. One she’d be caught in considering Moira’s methods had been based out of the Nanobiotic they’d made together.

She hadn’t spoken to Moira sense. They hadn’t had any plans and Moira had been put on leave sense the publishing as Overwatch sorted out what to do. It didn’t help that it had left Angela as the one to field so much of the backlash directly. It was both in guilt and anger that she shoved away Moiras work from her own. It wasn’t incorrect to tell inquiring people that their combined work had stopped after the success of the Nanobiotics. She wasn’t even Moira’s superior exactly even if she did hold a higher position in Overwatch now. There was nothing tying their newer projects together at this point beyond shared foundations...

It still felt like throwing her under the bus somehow. Even if the woman had brought it on herself.

“Yeah, that one. I understand you’ve been dealing with just as many angry messages as the rest of the RnD side.”

“More, from what I understand. You made me a face of Overwatch, which forced me to have a public email… And my involvement has come into question sense we had worked together.” She paused, “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You want to know if I helped her write that paper?”

Jack hummed noncommittally, “You two met outside work didn’t you?”

“Jack, you cannot think that I would be involved.” She said it firmly but… She had her own research she wasn’t sharing with Overwatch. Wasn’t getting approval for. Research she’d carefully tucked away when Moira had published because she knew there would be inquiries.

“Please, Angela, answer the question.” He smiled a little. Just an old man doing his job. That was what his body language said.

Wasn’t four guards a bit much for simply helping with theoretical work and rule-breaking? They hadn’t found out about her own research… Had they?

“I… Yes. We did. Not often. Maybe once a month at most. We worked together for two years and became… Friends I suppose?” Better to answer his questions and see where it lead.

“You’re about the only one who could put up with her for long periods of time.” Jack smiled a bit, “What about here on the base? Did you meet during work hours too?”

“Again, very occasionally. She would come to my office or I’d go to hers. We’d say hello, pass along departmental messages… Just friendly hellos every once in awhile. We were both too busy in our own work for us to do anything more.” She shook her head, “We didn’t talk much about work. Only occasionally and almost always in email. You can check them. Nothing we talked about was anything more then I’d talk about with, say, Winston.”

“I know, we’ve seen them.” Jack leaned his hands back on the counter, an open, relaxed body position. He either believed her… or wanted her to think he did. Jack was alarmingly hard to read sometimes.

“So you had nothing to do with her paper?” He continued.

“No.” It wasn’t a lie. She didn’t. She’d gone back over the questions Moira had asked her in those emails… Nothing in particular had been that out of the ordinary. It hadn’t even been anything you couldn’t look up quickly yourself with an internet connection. Angela had suspected that Moira had been asking her specifically just to hear from her.

It had been sweet.

“Moira and I worked together to make the Nano-Biotic and in the process we became good colleagues. Nothing more.”

“Did you want there to be more?”

A painfully soft kiss. A quick, alarmed backpedal and forcefully humorous patch up. A fear that was only soothed when Moira asked if she’d like to come with her for lunch after a department meeting. Relief when things had moved on like it had never happened.

The softly lingering regret that she had been a coward.

Angela wished she’d been ready for that question. She couldn’t be sure her face had stayed neutral. That she didn’t give herself away with a flinch. Jack was probably just covering bases. Looking for holes. She’d heard him do it before in the interrogation rooms. But she’d never been interrogated, had she?

“No. I mean, maybe it would have been nice to have lunch a little more often? It was always a nice conversation but… No. We’re just friends.”

His sympathetic smile told her he wasn’t fooled. She tried to maintain eye contact, keep her posture straight and relaxed… But the game was up.

“Are you sure that’s the answer you want to give me?” He offered gently.

“Yes.” She responded, “If Moira and I had had anything more than professional I would have informed someone via typical procedures for workplace relationships. I’m not one to break the rules like that Jack. You know that. The only reason I’m not more angry at you for breaking a _quarantine_ protocol is that the quarantine is just a precaution and you obviously have legitimate concerns. Otherwise I’d already be dragging you off to Captain Amari with a full write up.”

“Ana?” He actually chuckled, “You realize she’s not my CO, right?”

“Right, but she’s one of the only people on the base who can actually talk sense into you sometimes.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then just shook his head with a laugh, “Fair enough.” He sighed and pushed back into more serious territory, “What about sense O’Deorain’s been on leave. Have you seen her outside of work?”

“No. Not at all. We didn’t have anything scheduled and I’m not sure I could speak to her right now without giving her a lecture so I haven’t reached out. Neither has she.”

“Not even seen her in passing at the supermarket?”

“No, Jack, I haven’t at all.”

“And where were you this morning?”

She paused, puzzled, “This morning? What time?”

“Just tell me about your morning.”

Alarm bells were going off. Oh god. Was Moira dead? Had she been murdered? Had she killed someone? Was she missing? Angela shoved down these thoughts as she tried to put her morning in order, “I was at my apartment until… Six or so? Then I went for a run. I was at work by seven thirty, I was dealing with emails until about eleven when I went for lunch… And then I’ve been in here sense. I’m not sure what time it is actually.”

“It’s almost five. You’ve been ignoring your comms for the last six hours I take it?” Jack frowned.

Angela was trying not to raise her voice now, “Jack, tell me what is going on. This isn’t about the damn paper at all, is it? What’s happened?” She couldn’t check her comm now, it was behind Jack in the front section of the lab. Easier to ignore. Easier to miss something important too.

Jack, finally, really relented. He wasn’t sentimental, they weren’t close, but she could tell when he had taken off the interrogators gloves.

“Would you consent to a lab and residence search?”

She hesitated and then nodded tightly, “Yes. If that’s really what it took. I refuse to be happy about it though. Now will you _please_ tell me what’s going on?”

He grunted, turned and raised a hand, waving at the guards. The immediately dropped their stiff, postures and headed out the door. Jack stayed where he was as he focused back on Angela.

“O’Deorain was supposed to be back in today to have a meeting with us. She used her temporary clearance to get back into her labs. She performed some kind of experiment on herself, we think based on that paper. She seems to be stable. Refused medical treatment… She’s in holding right now until we can figure out what the hell she did. She won’t talk. Only thing she says is to call her lawyer.”

Angela didn’t know what to say. She’d gone pale, raising a hand to her mouth and not really seeing Jack. Why? Why would Moira do something like that? She’d always been a little rash but… Never stupid. What had she done to herself?

“I… I can probably have an idea if you let me talk to her.”

Jack gave her a sympathetic smile, “No can do. I’m sorry, you’re too close to it. We got a lot of scientists who can sort that out. I don’t think you had anything to do with this… But you’re better off not getting involved.”

Angela looked up at him, about to argue... but he was right. It had nothing to do with her, right? Moira had made her own choices. It was out of her hands.

 

That had been her thought at the time. But it hadn’t taken long for the ‘what if’s to pop up, had it? So many of them. What if she had been around more? What if she had asked after Moira’s work? What if she hadn’t been a coward that night Moira had kissed her?

Ultimately Moira was at fault. She’d made the choice… But it wasn’t like others had no effect on her. She’d trusted Angela, she’d listened. Yes they’d argue, but Moira hadn’t been the stubborn beast everyone had made her out to be. She just didn’t listen to much beyond solid scientific reasoning. It was a flaw… But she couldn’t call it by itself a sin. More importantly it was one that Angela could handle easily. She'd even admit she liked it. Relied on it. If Moira had said something, Angela knew she wasn’t just talking out of her ass. And it wasn’t like the geneticist lacked empathy. This was the woman who would get tearful over images of sad dogs and cartoon girls. There was an emotional, empathic creature under the thick layer of science and reason. The woman could even be ridiculously silly when she was relaxed and happy. She just had to trust you.

She’d trusted Angela. And... Angela hadn’t done anything to keep her on the right path. Angela had simply thought about Angela. Distance was easy. It kept their meetings more formal. Friendly but with distance. Each interaction had renewed her fondness for her colleague… But it had been so easy to just use that as a shield. Get her dose of interaction and then go back to work. She hadn’t thought about what might be happening in the meantime. She’d never thought Moira might get out of hand without an anchor.

It wasn’t fair to either of them. Moira had trusted her. At the same time Angela was not Moira’s keeper. They’d kissed. Once. They’d been friends. That didn’t make Angela in charge of Moira’s well being. Or the well being of the world around her.

That’s how it should be. She could rationalize that. But she couldn’t force herself to feel it. Maybe if it was just Moira then that would be something… But she was honestly one of the lower problems on Angela’s list of mounting guilt. Angela was capable of so much. So much. But she never seemed to be able to actually make the difference she wanted. She kept missing the important moments. She wasn’t there when she was needed, she didn’t say what she should have, she wasn’t strong enough to hold up those around her. And then there was the things she did that caused harm. Or were used to cause harm.

It wasn’t just anger at her creations being taken and abused that had kept her out of a lab for so long.

She glanced over at Moira’s dozing form. Their five and half hour flight was almost over. There’d been an announcement across the screens about five minutes before.

Minister of Genetics. One of the leading council of the most technologically advanced city ever created. It sounded like she’d landed well in the end. That, and the fact that she really did believe that Moira’s participation in Blackwatch hadn’t been voluntary or a joyride made her ease off on the guilt. Just a little. It had worked out in the end, hadn’t it?

It just hadn’t involved Angela at all.

That thought twisted her stomach badly. Was it jealousy that Moira had basically gotten off scot-free and Angela was still trapped by the past? Was it anger that Moira obviously hadn’t needed her? 

One fucking kiss. One kiss, three years of friendship, and something resembling a crush. Nothing that should have lingered over ten years. This was ridiculous. It made her feel vulnerable. Incredibly vulnerable.

Again she thought about sending a message to Fareeha. But if before it was a bad idea now it was a terrible one. She was pretty sure that Fareeha would panic if she found out Angela was on her way to Oasis in the company of Moira O’Deorain. She’d heard enough of Angela’s nightmares, enough of her admissions. For a moment she worried that Fareeha would fly out to Oasis specifically out of jealousy but… That wasn’t really Fareeha’s style. Their breakup, much like their friendship had been understanding and kind. Considering how badly her friendship with Ana had ended before her death, it was amazing how well Angela had got along with her daughter. But maybe that was a point they had in common. Fareeha still mourned her mother’s death… But also got so tired of her saintly image from those who remembered her.

It was something Angela could relate to quite well.

Fareeha was the only person she felt she could be vulnerable with. It’s part of what had led them into that relationship… And it was part of why it had failed. As far as first relationships went it hadn’t been that bad an experience. It’d taught her a lot.

She just wished it hadn’t made her trigger shy on actually calling on her friend when she needed support.

It hadn’t worked out and that was enough to make Angela’s guilt seep into it.

Moira’s head shifting in her sleep startled Angela out of her thoughts and she realized she’d been staring at the sleeping woman. At least they were alone in this corner of the plane. No one to have noticed her zoning out while staring down her travel companion.

She couldn’t wake Moira as she had done yesterday. She could snap in her house, she couldn’t just raise her voice on a plane and disturb the other people. There was nothing for it.

Angela reached across the seats, gripping Moira’s shoulder lightly, “We’re about to land.”

Moira jumped lightly as she woke, her good hand reaching up to cover Angela’s as she looked around, not quite immediately awake, “Hmm? Ah, yes, thank you.”

Her palm was warm from having been resting on her thigh, Angela’s had chilled from holding the reader. The contrast caused a rash of goosebumps to rise. Angela pulled her hand back, tucking it away under her other as if she needed to hide it, turning back towards the window to look out over the sand.

She heard Moira stretch and kept her eyes firmly on the view outside as the plane started to dip down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while to get up. This fic is kind of a side-project as this kind of writing isn't exactly what I do on the daily and I've been dealing with an injury for about a month. That being said I was debating going ahead with the original plan of this story being a comic instead of a fic. I'd still probably write the fic as a beta for the comic but I'll drop a link in the notes when I get the first few test pages up and see if folks would be interested. Thanks for reading!


	5. Home

“I’ve got it,” Moira said as she reached over carousel number four, catching Angela’s weathered duffle bag before it could escape around the circuit again.

“I can take it,” Angela told her, reaching for the handles as Moira turned back towards her. For a second Moira thought about arguing, about holding it up out of Angela’s reach. The doctor might have agreed to come but she’d been stiff and short on words ever since her little outburst. Moira was still no closer to figuring out what that had been about. It was obvious she was going to treat this as professionally and impersonally as possible. She’d not reacted to a kind word, a joke, or a rude comment since they’d gotten off the plane.

And that was going to start irritating Moira.

But the middle of Oasis baggage claim wasn’t the place to have an argument, so she let Angela take the bag, “Alright, let's get a taxi then. Do you want to go to the hotel first?”

Angela pulled the strap of her luggage over her shoulder, “Yes.”

Moira felt the corners of her mouth tug down in irritation. She had to be doing this intentionally.

Outside the queue for the taxi stand was moving at a steady clip, the automated road system rarely clogged and accidents were unheard of outside of freak situations. Moira had been waiting for something to go wrong her first year of being here but afterwards was fine simply trusting the system worked as intended. A lot of Oasis was like that. Things that many said were impossible to do because of the human element and error functioned as intended. And when something didn’t function it was immediately worked on and dealt with. No waiting. No displacing blame… It was a miracle of a city.

It had been life changing to live in a place like Oasis, though she sometimes missed the smell of the ocean or the dreary weather of Dublin.

They climbed into the sleek cab and it pulled away from the curb as soon as they sat, near to no inertia tugging on them with the smooth acceleration.

“The Oasis Temple Grand, please.” She spoke aloud to the cab’s computer.

*”Oasis Temple Grand confirmed. Please let me know if your destination is wrong or changes. Estimated time of arrival; fifteen minutes. Please remain seated.”*

Moira glanced at Angela who was looking around the driverless cabin a little uncomfortably.

“It’s perfectly safe. The whole system is automated and on a grid. No one's even gotten a significant injury in the last five years, let alone died.” Moira put her elbow over the back of the seats and leaned on her hand, watching Angela.

The doctor glanced up at her, mouth thinning and then she turned towards the window, “That’s very impressive.”

It was all Moira could do not to snap back with ‘you certainly don’t sound impressed’.

“... Haven’t you ridden in them before? You said you’d been here on tour, didn’t you?” Was a much less aggressive thing to say.

“Yes. And they told me something similar.” She didn’t have much to her tone as she said it but it was an obvious intent to shut down the conversation.

Moira’s lips twitched downwards again and she turned away towards her own window, nursing a growing angry knot in her stomach.

The fifteen minutes to the hotel were a block of tense silence until the cab’s computer chirped pleasantly that they had arrived. Angela was a little too quick to jump out of the cab with her duffle and Moira followed her out the same side. The Oasis Temple Grand was one of those projects spearheaded by culture and PR minded individuals. It was bordering on grandiose, reflecting the style of ancient Mesopotamia with influences from Greek and Egyptian highlighted throughout. It looked not unlike a ziggurat from the outside… But inside the only thing being worshiped was the Oasis public face. Most of Oasis was beautiful but understated. Ornate but with a focus on function. The Temple Grand was basically a standing advert for what Oasis was and what it accomplished to those given leave to visit and thus was a bit more ‘frills’ then Moira preferred.

The hotel rooms were fantastically comfortable though, she had to give them that. Every room a suite basically.

Moira followed Angela to reception but spoke before she could, “I placed a reservation for a guest of Minister O’Deorain.”

The man behind the counter smiled brightly, “Ah, Minister, of course. Give me just a moment.” He turned to his holo-screen to pull up the information.

“I could have covered this. When did you even have time to place a reservation?” Angela muttered.

Mildly indigent was the most reaction that Moira had gotten out of her in hours. Not that it improved her mood.

“Oh? Are you actually speaking to me now?” She asked flatly.

Angela glanced at the man behind the desk and then back at Moira, keeping her voice low, “I’ve _been_ talking to you.”

“As little as possible to seem polite, yes.” Moira wasn’t going to let her skate out of this. Even if letting Angela do as she please was in her long-term interests.

Angela opened her mouth to say something but the man behind the counter cleared his throat tactfully as he held out a pad for Moira to sign. She did so briefly as he smiled and handed Angela her key-card, “Would you like any help with your bags, Ma’am?”

“No. Thank you.” Angela said a little tightly, obviously trying to be polite to this man who had done nothing to deserve two bickering women.

“All the same, please don’t hesitate to call and let us know if you’d like anything at all. We’re happy to look after the guests of our Ministers.”

Angela nodded and Moira gestured towards the elevators, “623 right? This way.”

She half expected Angela to tell her to wait in the lobby, that she’d take her bag up and be right back down… But she didn’t. All the better. The hotel rooms were well insulated, they could have out their brewing fight there without drawing attention or disturbing anyone else.

Except Angela apparently was content with the ‘privacy’ of the elevator when the doors closed and it was just the two of them.

“I don’t owe you friendly conversation O’Deorain.” She put bluntly as the elevator started to rise.

“No. You don’t.” Moira agreed, “But that isn’t what this is about, is it?”

Angela scoffed, “Obviously it is considering your ‘polite’ comment.”

“No.” Moira reiterated a little darkly, “ _It isn’t._ You’ve been treating me like a slug sense your outburst on the plane.” Her face might have been calm but her heart rate had picked up, her body ready for the fight she was sure was coming.

Then the doors opened and an older, very wrinkled, and smiling woman got onto the elevator on their floor, stalling the conversation. Both Angela and Moira moved to leave the little box around her tiny form at the same time, came close to bumping into each other, stopped and tried to let the other go first.

Angela putting her hand over the doors so they wouldn’t close gave her the upper hand and Moira bitterly admitted this small defeat silently, walking out first. It was stupid. It was petty. It didn’t matter. Yet it added to her irritation.

She turned, checking the numbers to know which way to go and heading off in that direction, not shortening her strides for Angela now, long legs carrying her away from the sounds of the blonde’s boots.

It was was stupid, it was petty, it didn’t matter… But it soothed her to find door 623 and lean on the frame next to it, waiting for Angela to catch up. Best of all it made Angela glare at her in pure irritation. It was a soothing cup of bitter tea.

Angela swiped the card and the door unlocked with a soft tone of recognition, the blonde pushing inside. Moira had the distinct image of the door being slammed on her nose but she wasn’t stopped from following Angela.

The room was very similar to how she remembered her stay here, almost like a posh open air apartment. The view of Oasis’s skyline was beautiful, as was the mixture of clean, bright colors in the room with the potted plants. The green here reflected the fact that much of the cities decoration was in the form of flora, hitherto unheard of in this part of the desert but growing quite happily thanks to the wonders of science.

It was a very pretty place to have a very ugly argument.

It wasn’t a surprise when Angela all but threw her duffle bag onto the bed with more force then was necessary, “ _What the hell is your problem?!_ Are you a child? Do you need my attention that badly?”

“MY problem?” Moira hissed back, “You told me I messed everything up and then stopped talking to me!”

Angela jabbed a finger at her, “I didn’t stop talking to you! I’ve been talking to you this whole time! I don’t have to be friendly if I don’t want to be Moira!”

“No! You don’t! But if you just accuse me of something vague and then don’t tell me what it is how am I supposed to know? How am I supposed to fix it?!” Moira’s blood pressure was rising. Was Angela intentionally repeating herself and missing what Moira was saying or had she just lost brain cells in their years apart? Maybe a blow to head from working in too many fucking warzones.

“Like you don’t know what I was talking about.” Angela’s dismissive tone made a tremor of real anger shiver through Moira’s bones.

“ _I’M NOT A MIND READER ANGELA!_ ” 

It’d come out as a shout when she’d only meant to state it. The room was too padded in greenery and hangings to echo but her words rang in her ears. From the startled look on Angela’s face it seemed the same for her.

She hadn’t raised her voice like that in years and never before at Angela.

For a long moment she couldn’t say anything, the hotel room utterly silent except for their soft breathing.

Moira forced herself to take a deep breath. To calm herself and try again.

“... I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes… But not knowing everything that goes on in your head isn’t something I’m going to apologize for.” She said it much quieter. Almost apologetically despite her words. 

Angela wrapped her arms around herself silently. It made her look small. Fragile. Moira didn’t like the look of it on her. She hated it even more for the fact that she’d caused it.

She’d less dropped the attempt to stay completely professional and more flung it off a twenty story rooftop. It was likely going to see Angela going home on the soonest flight back. Moira would be forced to work with someone who didn’t know the technology, who wasn’t as brilliant. She’d probably die. And even if she lived... Angela would never want to see or speak to her again.

What was the worst part of it? Hurting someone you cared for, or sabotaging yourself… possibly to your own death?

 

“I’m sorry.” Angela said finally. She squeezed herself a little tighter. She could feel herself fraying at the edges a little. She knew she’d been unreasonable. Her attempt to just… shut down, to save them both from anything beyond what had to be done… It was really just an attempt to protect herself. And maybe to hurt Moira a little. It wasn’t like she didn’t have real grievances with the woman but she’d just…

“I’m sorry.” She repeated more firmly, “You’re right. I’m being completely unreasonable.”

Her eyes snapped up from the floor when she saw Moira take a step towards her.

“Apology accepted.” She wasn’t sure if the softness of Moira’s tone or the fact that she’d said it like she meant it shook her more. Her fingers dug into her sides a little as she hugged herself, “Will you please just tell me, plainly, what you meant by ‘not enough’?” 

The anger wasn’t completely gone from her tone but Angela could tell it was greatly dimmed now. More exasperation then anything.

“You said I helped to keep you grounded… But not only did you do research that brought down scrutiny on us and Overwatch but then, you decided to throw yourself off the deep end by breaking into the labs and experimenting on yourself based on purely theoretical work.”

“And I was correct.” Moira interjected.

That brought back some of the anger and Angela immediately snapped back, “Obviously not completely because why else would I be here?” She pointed at Moira’s shoulder.

Thankfully, that shut her up again and they didn’t need to argue that point once more. So Angela continued.

“First it was the research itself and then it was the experimentation… I didn’t keep you grounded at all, did I? We were friendly. But it didn’t influence your in the slightest, did it? Or-” She almost didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to assume the worst even if her heart and subconscious were sure it was the truth…

“Did the fact that I stopped speaking to you when you were put on leave make you pull that stupid stunt?” She looked up at Moira, trying to feel calm and confident and only succeeding enough to keep her back straight and keep her meeting Moira’s mismatched eyes.

“Make me…?” Confusion and then recognition lit her up face, “Angela… That’s what this has been about? You’re feeling guilty?”

“No!” Angela corrected abruptly, “I don’t feel guilty. You made your own choice. It was your mistake and you’re a grown woman but I…”

Moira didn’t interrupt her, waiting for Angela to find the words but nothing was coming. She half knew what the reality was but hadn’t ever put it into words outside her head. How did you put this kind of thing into words? Emotions were so simple when they were someone else's. She hated dealing with her own.

“You feel responsible.” Moira finished for her.

“No.” Angela responded immediately but… That was pretty as on the nose as a single sentence was going to get, “... Yes. Maybe? Who else was friendly enough with you to tell you not to do things like that? Who cared enough about you to? Who knew as much about our work to argue against your ridiculous bullheadedness?”

“Me.” She responded firmly, “I’m responsible for my choices, Angela. You said it yourself.”

It hurt to hear her name like that. It was too gentle. Too familiar.

“I’m a doctor and I have a responsibility-”

“You’re not my doctor.” Moira interrupted and took another step forward, now in arm’s length she reached up and put her hands on Angela’s shoulders.

It felt like her heart stopped for a second.

“You never had any idea how to go ‘off duty’, did you?” Moira’s voice was almost teasing and when Angela looked up at her she could see one half of her mouth turned upwards. Just a little. Not a true smile but not a forced one either. Angela’s jaw tightened and she looked down again.

“I’m going to hug you now.” Moira said, pausing for any objection. Angela only gave the barest of nods.

Moira was so lanky she could practically wrap twice around Angela's smaller body without trouble. The hug was light, it didn't seem to be intending to force her to stay. It wasn't the tight embrace of a lover. Angela could hear Moira's heartbeat from where her ear was pressed into the fabric of the Irish women's silk shirt. It was as close as they'd been for over a decade. It was the first time someone had hugged her since she and Fareeha had broken it off to remain friends.

She didn't even know how to start organizing or categorizing the feelings she was experiencing. She wanted to cry. She wanted to hug back. She wanted to push away and reaffirm some distance. She wanted to pull Moira down and kiss her like the last time they were this close.

She didn't get to act on any of those feelings because Moira spoke again.

“I used to wonder if you think like this to try and make up for your lack of natural empathy. Or maybe to punish yourself for it.”

Angela was about to pull back from the embrace when a hand came to rest on her hair, next to her ponytail, the long fingers brushing over the taut strands. It didn't hold her still, only surprised her with it's gentleness.

“You aren't responsible for the world, Angela. You aren't responsible for everything that goes wrong. You run yourself ragged, physically and mentally trying to be a guardian angel to everything and everyone. I don't want to be one of the things that causes you pain. I don't know if that can change at this point but… please believe me when I say I want that. If that means… buying you a ticket back to Zurich, I'll do it. I won’t bother you again.”

Back to Zurich? Angela stood, stunned. Moira was sure that Angela was the solution to her problem and she would just… let her go home? That could cost her her life.

The room was utterly silent for a long moment. Neither said or did anything more then breathe where they were. Without anything else to focus on Angela could smell the scent of travel on Moira's shirt. The smell of airplanes and airports. But under that was the warmth of her more natural scent, not wholly describable. She knew, medically, that it was a mixture of simple normal bodily functions. Hormones, sweat, skin…

But to her it was the nicest smell in the world right now. It felt like a strange homecoming. Especially considering the relationship they'd had in the past was nothing so intimate.

Angela finally swallowed down the lump in her throat.

“Now you're just being ridiculous.” It came out a gravelly whisper for all the salt that had threatened her eyes, “I agreed, didn't I? I'm already here. I'm going to help you. I said I would.”

She pulled back to look up at Moira, “I'm sorry. I was being childish. I know it's not my responsibility.” She already knew that. Well. Her rational mind knew it. Her emotional brain urged her to keep lying and smooth this whole thing over. 

“It's just hard not to see the things I could have done differently.” 

Moira nodded. The hand on her hair moved around, barely grazing her cheek, not quite cupping it. Was this…? Was she going to…?

But no. There was no kiss incoming. No sight of two-tone eyes closing as they came closer. Moira pulled away from her in fact, taking half a step back but leaving a hand on her shoulder.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty. But it's also blinding to the now, don't you think? I chose to write that paper to show the world the possibilities of our work and what it could do. But I chose to experiment when and how I did to directly attack Overwatch for tossing me out at the first sign of trouble despite years of diligent work. It was beyond idiotic of me. But it's long past. My choices right now matter far more.”

Angela found that both heartening and… heartbreaking somehow. Had Moira regretted the kiss? Did she no longer feel any hint of what had caused it?

No, Zeigler, get your mind straight. Reengage rational brain.

She did manage a mostly genuine, if small, smile, “I'll take that under advisement, doctor.”

 

“Smile!”

Angela excitedly tightened her arm around Moira's shoulders, on her toes while she pulled Moira down, “Come on, O'Deorain, you're too tall! We won't fit in the shot!” She laughed, glass raised.

Moira's hand on her waist was warm and right and exactly what she wanted.

“It's hardly my fault you’re so short Zeigler.” Moira's rich melodic laugh, the one Angela had come to prize so much, in her ear felt even better than this half embrace. Her face was red from more than just the champagne and her smile was bright and genuinely ecstatic.

As soon as Winston lowered his communicator she let up on her grip, allowing Moira to stand straight again… But Moira hadn't let up on hers.

God, she could feel her heart beating a million miles an hour.

“I'll send you the picture! It's great if I do say so myself.” Winston was too busy with sending them both a copy to notice their continued physical proximity. Though, of all the people in the room he wasn’t the most likely to notice it or draw any conclusions.

“Thank you, I appreciate that Winston.” Moira hummed happily. The physicist looked up with surprise, but nodded with a smile in return. They had been getting along a little better with Angela here to diffuse or translate Moira's sometimes irritable nature and Winston's nervous stuttering and flip flopping. Not that she was sure they called each other friends but, it was a good change and Angela had become quite good at it so she was happy to help them.

Angela's com buzzed and she reached into her pocket, jostling Moira's hand a little. It still didn't pull away.

The picture _was_ great. The genuine smile on Moira's face was a treasure and Angela lifted it for Moira to see as well.

“I think you look good as a short person.” She grinned up at the geneticist.

Moira snorted, “I look good regardless.”

Winston laughed, “I think anyone would look good when they’d just gotten their world-changing invention cleared through the UN for distribution!”

“Thank you Winston.” Moira seemed to be on a roll with being pleasant. Maybe it was the stress of the project finally lifting off her shoulders, maybe it was the champagne. Angela suspected it was a bit of both.

From behind Angela felt someone touch her shoulder briefly and Angela turned to look who it was. She hadn’t seen Ana enter the party but considering the friendship they’d struck up over the course of Angela’s few years working here it wasn’t a surprise that she’d at least popped her head in. Moira’s hand did pull away from her waist as she turned to face Ana fully and the spot just above her hip felt colder for it.

“Congratulations Angela, you’ve changed the face of medicine.” The older woman smiled like a doting aunt, kind and sure.

Any wistfulness at the loss of contact with Moira was washed away with the swell of pride, “Thank you, Ana. I don’t know if it’s going to cause that much of a splash worldwide but I’m glad it’s finalized.”

She clicked her tongue but was still grinning, “You’re underselling yourself again. This is going to help a lot of people. They’re talking about making you head of medical.”

The last part of it was said almost so casually that Angela had at first just nodded along with a smile, a little too tipsy to do otherwise. But then her brain finally processed those words and she startled.

“ _Me?_ ” She whispered in alarm, “But… I’ve only been here a few years. Surely there are people better qualified. Moira has been here far longer-”

Ana covered her mouth lightly as she chuckled, “O’Deorain? She’s not an MD. Between this and the work you did to save Genji who do you think is better suited to lead our medical department?”

“This project would never have happened without her. But there are other doctors too, what about-”

“Do you not want the position?” Ana asked, intentionally cutting off her rambling. She was grinning in the kind of way that said she’d been expecting this response, “They’re only talking about it for now. Dr. Clements is retiring and you are one of the few who has a good grasp on both the practice and development of the field. But I could tell them you have no interest and you could pursue smaller projects again if that's what you'd prefer.”

Angela blinked, trying to think, “... I-… It would be an amazing opportunity. I could do a lot with that position.” She could have her voice heard, she could demand some changes she didn’t have the right to in her current job as a medical researcher.

Angela looked up at her again, her face set in determination, “Yes. I would like it. If that is what's decided.”

Ana nodded, “Don’t worry about it for now. But I’ll let them know that you’re prepared for it.” She pulled Angela into a hug, “Your parents would be very proud of you.”

A warm statement that should have filled her with pride… But all it did was sober her. Proud? Probably. But that’s not usually what people meant when they said that. Usually it was a way of telling her how much like her parents she was. Like that was supposed to comfort her.

Outwardly she still smiled and hugged Ana in return, “Thank you.”

The commander pulled away, “I have to go but enjoy the rest of your party. Just don’t think we’re going to let you drink on site regularly, hmm?” She winked before turning to leave the staff break room and Angela’s ease returned.

Moira had wandered off a little, talking to one of the other scientists from R&D. She looked so at ease and yet so out of place. When they'd started working together seeing Moira surrounded by their colleagues and chatting would have made Angela wonder if she was hallucinating. Even now Moira could be rather anti-social, especially during work hours.

Maybe she just didn't know the geneticist as well as she thought. Moira did have hobbies. She turned off at the end of the day and went home and actually relaxed. Maybe she was personable outside of work. Angela was personable all the time because… well, she was the same all the time. She never turned off or separated work from her life. Her work was her life.

If she spent time with Moira outside of work would she be as casual as she was now?

Anyway, it was better to let Moira mingle on her own. Angela floated towards those from medical who had come to celebrate… Or steal some of the food. Both were equally valid.

It seemed like they were on opposite sides of the room for most of the party. It wasn't intentional on her part. She doubted it was intentional on Moira's. A couple times she felt like she'd turn around and find Moira had disappeared off to be alone or go home or something. But she never did.

After fielding what seemed like years worth of congratulations the party started to die out. She felt exhausted, but still happy and a bit tipsy even though she'd stopped drinking an hour ago.

The few remaining people besides herself and Moira shooed them away.

“Go relax!”

“Take the rest of the day off, Clements won't mind!”

“We'll clean up. Don't give me that look Kim, you said you'd help.”

Angela laughed, “I'm happy to stay and help clean.”

A hand was placed on her shoulder. Moira’s smile was all amusement, “Of course you are. But let's let them handle it. We'll clean up if they ever do something party worthy.”

“Wow O'Deorain.”

“Rude!”

The Irish woman only laughed and, surprisingly, they laughed with her.

Maybe this was a turn around. Maybe more people would see that Moira wasn't that bad.

Angela nodded and turned to the others, “It's a promise. Once you finish your projects we'll clean up after.”

The hall was quiet as they left. Back to their office. And then… what? Go home?

“I suppose this also means we won't have to share that cramped little office anymore.” Moira hummed, “You can stop complaining.”

Angela sighed in exaggerated exasperation, “Finally. I'll have a tidy office without any of your weird music.”

Moira chuckled, “Any thoughts on what you'll do next?”

Angela's smile fell and she chewed her lip. Would Moira be upset?

“Apparently the council is talking about having me take over for Dr Clements when he retires.”

Moira was silent a moment and Angela braced for her irritation… but it never came. She only sighed.

“Well, I suppose that curtails any more joint projects. For a while at least. Such a shame, you were actually warming me to the idea of cooperation.” She pressed her badge to the door lock and let Angela go in first.

“You’re not upset?” Angela paused, hand on her desk, she turned to watch Moira move towards her own.

The older woman gave her a surprised look, “Upset? Why?”

“Because I haven’t been here that long. You’ve been here years and you’re still only a research lead.” Angela started.

“Because I chose to be. Working for a paramilitary organization is stressful enough, why the hell would I want to head an entire department for them?” She tilted her head with a small smile, “Don’t be fooled just because your presence has… ‘Socialized’ me a little. I’d still be much happier simply researching. Leadership has never interested me.”

Angela smiled faintly, a little nervously as she leaned back against the edge of her desk, “I socialized you? I don’t think I could make you do anything, O’Deorain. You put up with me because I can occasionally make you laugh and I have medical knowledge you lack.”

She was fully expecting Moira to come back and continue their joking. That was what normally happened. But Moira’s smile turned and she frowned, coming over to stand in front of Angela with a deeply concerned look on her face.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

Angela stared, confused. Of course she was, where the hell had that come from?

“Moira?”

The older woman looked concerned and put her hands on Angela’s shoulders, “I respect you, Angela. You’re brilliant and dedicated. You’re a fantastic doctor and the best researcher I’ve had the pleasure of working with. This project wouldn’t have gotten off the ground with anyone else.”

Angela stared up at her, heart and stomach doing little flips. Her tone was so soft and serious, her expression determined and gentle. Angela liked it but also had no idea what had brought it on. No one had ever looked at her like this. She had zero data to draw from on what Moira might be feeling.

“I-... Thank you. I feel the same.” It felt lame. She tried again, reaching up in mimic to Moira’s hands on her shoulders, resting hers on the outside of Moira’s upper arms, “You’re frustrating sometimes but you’re inspiring. Brilliant. This project relied just as much on you as it did on me. I really was only joking… I’m sorry if it came off like I really thought so poorly of you.”

That made the most sense. They’d become friendly and maybe Moira got worried Angela didn’t see that there was more to her then what a lot of people had thought for a long time. No one enjoyed feeling like they were a caricature of themselves in other people’s minds.

Well, Angela kind of encouraged it for her own image even if she didn’t enjoy it… But she was aware that she wasn’t typical.

The concern melted from Moira’s face slightly and she breathed a soft laugh, “That’s not it, Angela. I was worried that you thought I thought so little of you. Or perhaps that you were demeaning yourself. I heard a little of what you said to Amari. You’re a brilliant young woman. You should be proud of yourself and what you’ve done here.”

Moira’s compliments were not regular. She told Angela once that she liked to save them for when she thought they were actually deserved, rather then when someone had simply done their job. She’d never compared Angela to her parents, Angela wasn’t even sure Moira knew who they were. Angela was also fairly sure that Moira was aware of her… deficiencies, whereas most were ignorant.

So when Moira said she should be proud it felt more weighty. It felt like Moira was looking at the real her and not a caricature or her parents legacy and finding what she saw as worthy of praise.

“Thank you. That means a great deal to me.” She whispered, looking up at Moira earnestly, her fingers tightening on Moira’s arms.

That was when it had happened. The shift. First, her hand moved to Angela’s hair, long fingers skating delicately over the taut strands. Then Moira took half a step closer and bent her head, her eyes drooping almost to close. Later Angela could have denied that she was complicit in it entirely if it wasn’t for the fact that she lifted her face and tilted her head. She’d only kissed a few people before but understood enough of the mechanics to do that. She’d moved to meet Moira’s lips because she wanted it. She wasn’t sure for how long she’d wanted it but she wanted to kiss Moira O’Deorain as sure as she wanted to keep breathing.

Moira’s lips were thin but warm and soft. The smell of her was right under Angela’s nose, mixed with the lingering scent of the champagne. Except for the press of the edge of the desk into her thighs there wasn’t anything outside of them for that split second. The faint way that Moira’s lips moved against hers. She wished she could taste them.

She’d just made herself ready to try that when Moira pulled back abruptly.

“Well.” The older woman blinked, slightly flushed, “... I don’t drink that often but I didn’t think I was _that_ polluted.”

Angela felt her stomach tighten. Drunk? A drunk kiss? No. No, she didn’t buy that for an instant. Moira had an incredible level of control usually but nobody had that level of tolerance to act almost completely normal while drunk unless they were an alcoholic. Moira didn’t seem the type.

But what could she do? Call her out? She wasn’t even sure why Moira had kissed her. If she meant anything serious by it.

So she snorted, “I told you to lay off after the second glass!”

“It was our party, I’m allowed to celebrate. If you haven’t figured out by now that I don’t listen to you when you tell me what to do I just don’t know if there’s any hope for you.” Moira quirked an eyebrow, smiling faintly. She let go of Angela’s shoulders and Angela let go of her arms at the same moment.

This felt awful.

“I’m an optimist, O’Deorain, I’m always going to hope you’ll actually listen one day.” She crossed her arms, outwardly grinning almost teasingly, “So, how many times have you gotten drunk and kissed someone?”

Moira took a step back, turning towards her desk to pick up her bag and drop her coat over the chair, “Oh it was a real problem in my younger years. I have a condition.”

“A condition?”

“Yes.” Moira sighed woefully, “I have Ebriusbasiumosis. It’s been a real problem.”

Angela squinted, “Ebrius… Basium- ‘Drunk Kiss Disease’? _Really?_ ” She burst into honest laughter, “That’s not even proper Latin! Or name structure!”

Moira had her bag on her shoulder and turned, hand over her chest, “Dr. Angela Ziegler. It’s a very serious condition. Are you mocking me?”

“Yes!” Angela covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. The pain of this, whatever reason this was happening, it was easier to ignore if things just went back to normal. If they just didn’t make a big deal of it. Especially if trying to confront her directly would mean the end of their working relationship.

“I’ll have to report you to Amari. Tell her that her precious candidate for head of medical is mocking people with serious ailments.” Moira turned towards the door.

“Please let me know when you plan on doing that because I would _love_ to see the look on her face.” Angela stayed where she was, “Heading home then?”

Moira nodded, grinning as if nothing in the world had transpired, “I plan on making a full day of it. I’ve been putting off watching a new show since work was so busy for the last few weeks but now I’m going to take the long weekend so I can watch all of it at once.”

If Moira hadn’t kissed her. If they both hadn’t just decided not to make anything of it… She’d probably have plucked up the courage to ask if she could join Moira. Get to know this ‘anime’ thing she enjoyed on her off time. As it stood all she could say was, “Remember to eat and sleep. It’d be terrible to find out you died if you don’t come in on Monday.”

Moira nodded, “I’ll take it under advisement, doctor. See you monday then?”

Angela nodded with a smile, “Enjoy your weekend.”

“Thanks.”

Angela was left alone in the quiet office once Moira had gone. The smile gone from her face almost immediately when the door closed. She didn’t move for a while. Just… existing. Feeling a mix of things and all of it too complicated to parse through so she simply stood and repeated to herself that it was better this way.

It had to be better this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. My house exploded. Thank you for all your patience!


	6. Sleepless

Angela had been over and over the information Moira had given her. The original intentions, the formulas, the scans before and after every test and every treatment, experiments, the results intended and not... She now knew more about Moira’s arm then she did about the state of her own.

And had nothing to show for it.

She wasn’t a geneticist. She hadn’t taken their technology in the direction that Moira had. It was like she was trying to re-learn Swiss German again: she had the basic concepts, but all the specifics were wrong. The feeling of bitter frustration and alienation was quite similar. Her nanites were in this technology, damnit. Well, descendants of her original nanites were. Either way it was frustrating to see something so familiar and so strangely incomprehensible.

By the end of her first week she was starting to feel sure that she was not the right woman for the job. No matter what Moira thought.

It was late, she was tired. It was hard not to be defeatist when she felt so wholly worn down. Her nightmares had been constant and sleep restless because she wasn’t used to the hotel room. Her irrational brain couldn’t feel safe. At least at home she would wake up and immediately relax. 

Usually anyway. The nightmare she’d had the night before Moira had appeared in her living room had rocked her so badly because she honestly had thought she’d been awake. Usually they weren't so viscerally similar to her present life.

The ones here were near as bad as that one. She’d wake up, wonder where she was, and curl up in terror rather than brave the darkness. At least when she was off doing her humanitarian work she was usually crushed into tents or hostels with other people in a way that made her feel… Secure. If someone else was around then it must not be dangerous. Even though her anxieties didn’t really take the form of the physical dangers she’d faced in her life, it soothed her irrational mind anyway.

She got through her daily life on her own very well. She had coping mechanisms that worked fine… As long as she never did anything outside her comfort zone. Not being able to figure out what was wrong with Moira was a surprisingly painful blow… Mostly because it threw the fact that it was her own shortcomings that were her major obstacles directly into her face. If she wasn’t an emotionally damaged wreck then she’d be fine working out of a perfectly safe hotel room and she’d have found something. Anything.

She felt utterly pathetic.

Except this was Moira’s health at stake and Angela wasn’t so proud that she’d put her life in danger by demanding that Angela be the one to save her. It was better if they acted quickly, bring in someone who could actually help her, rather then trying to force what wasn’t going to work…

She had to come clean to Moira, “... I haven’t found anything. I don’t know what’s wrong with your arm or why it’s starting to mutate the surrounding tissue. I’m sorry.”

They were sat in Moira’s new office. Well, it was new to Angela at least. It was far larger than the one they’d shared in Zurich. Immaculately clean with large windows and tasteful decoration that Angela was sure Moira hadn’t picked herself. Ceramics and floating sculptures on artistic and useless shelves. This was the office of a Minister of Oasis. Not Moira O’Deorain who prefered mugs with rude things written on them and a few odds and ends she referred to as her ‘desk army’. All Moira’s real personality was in the lab and probably at home, not here where she had to be a leader and impress an image.

The chairs were definitely comfy though. Angela liked these chairs.

Moira sat across from her behind the desk proper, holding a cooled cup of tea and thinking about it quietly. She didn’t seem upset by Angela’s admission of failure at least.

She finished her tea before finally responding, “... Let's take a break. Why don’t I take you on a more informal tour tomorrow? It’s Sunday, we’ll make a day of it. Get away from all this.” She waved a hand vaguely at the holographic display between them, banishing the information they’d looked over together now dozens of times.

“I don’t think a break is going to magically give me the answers, O’Deorain.” Angela ran a hand through her hair and slumped back in her seat.

“Neither is going at it ten hours a day for six days. We’re too old to be burning the candle at both ends, Ziegler.” She set her empty mug down and stood up, grabbing her coat and bag, “Come on, I’ll hail you a taxi.”

Angela wanted to argue but… Fuck it. She was tired. Demanding Moira find someone else for the project at eleven at night was a little insane. So the doctor stood to follow Moira out of the office, sliding her coat over her shoulders to keep off the freezing desert night air.

They didn’t speak as they left the Ministry of Genetics, Angela tugging her coat up around her neck against the breeze. It wasn’t an awkward silence, there actually hadn’t been many of those. Falling back into old work habits meant a surprising ability to be comfortable with each other’s quiet. She didn’t know many people who were comfortable with her being quiet. And it often left her feeling the need to be performative… Which could get exhausting.

No surprise the people she’d gotten along best with hated having to be performative. Fareeha, Moira, Ana, Winston, Lena, some of the children she had known at school...

Moira’s voice startled her out of her own thoughts.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Eight?” Moira put a hand on her shoulder and it as only then that Angela realized the taxi had already pulled up to the curb. She must have been more tired than she thought.

“Yes… Alright, that sounds fine. Would you like to have breakfast together or should I eat before?” She looked up at the other woman. The little touches like this had become common place again as well. Shoulder touching. Arm touching. Nothing rude or presumptuous, usually only to steady or get her attention. Usually they only lasted a few seconds at most. Long ago in Overwatch's labs these touches were something that could easily be explained away by months of close proximity and limited working space in their tiny shared office.

Here though? Oasis was not small, Moira’s lab was not small, her office was not small, and yet Moira kept finding reasons to touch her. Or maybe she was just used to it from before.

Moira was giving her an odd look.

Why was Moira looking at her like that?

Oh. Right. She’d asked a question.

… 

What had she asked?

Angela shook her head to try and wake herself, “I’m sorry, I think I’m just very tired. What did you say?”

Moira frowned, “Do you want me to come with you? Make sure you get back safely? It’s not out of my way.”

“No that’s…” Angela trailed off, squinting and frowning in thought. No. No, what she was being stupid, “... Would it really be alright?”

It sounded like cover for inviting Moira back to her room, to act out on her persistent feelings and probably make Moira incredibly uncomfortable. She could very easily imagine Moira having to tell her she wasn’t interested and had figured that out a decade ago when she’d kissed her.

But honestly? She was just afraid she’d fall asleep in the taxi.

Moira smiled faintly, “Yes. Come on, let's get you back.”

Angela slipped into the cab first and relaxed back into the chair. Immediately she was glad she’d accepted Moira’s offer. Her eyes felt like lead. It was as if the moment they had put the work away her brain had decided to shut down. Moira sliding onto the seat jostled her just enough to open her eyes again and look up as the tall woman closed the door.

“Oasis Temple Grand.” Moira’s voice was so soft now, all the firm edge of work had fallen off. Everything was pretty soft actually. This was also a good chair. Oasis, city of very comfortable sitting places.

_“Oasis Temple Grand confirmed. Please let me know if your destination is wrong or changes. Estimated time of arrival; ten minutes. Please remain seated.”_

Ok, never mind, the voice of the computer was not soft and Angela wanted to ask if there was a mute button, but about all she managed was a slightly irritated noise and a half-hearted sneer at the screen.

As soon as Moira leaned back next to Angela, her frown disappeared. She let herself lean to the side, head resting on Moira’s shoulder. If the cheeky bitch was going to keep touching her shoulders then Angela was going to use Moira’s as a pillow in equal payment.

She smelled nice even after all day in an office.

Weird.

“Wake me when we get there?” She tried to speak clearly even as sleep clawed at her.

She heard Moira hum in acknowledgement… And then she was out.

 

… ‘Make me a door?’

Moira could not have heard that correctly, but Angela didn't respond to her questioning hum. She was about to ask her aloud what she'd said when she realized Angela's breathing had shifted. She was asleep.

Angela really _was_ exhausted. She’d been looking haggard for most of the day. The last few days really, but it hadn’t felt prudent to demand what was going on. Their argument had ended well enough, and Moira felt like she’d at least gotten something through Angela’s thick skull. She doubted that would be the end of it... but she’d been reluctant to press harder. Afraid of pushing her too far.

Half of it was self preservation. Angela could recant her statements, hop on a plane leave, and never speak to her again. Go on with life hating Moira for presuming she had any right to demand answers from Angela, or have any kind of place in her life.

Moira did not want that.

The other half was a reaction to seeing Angela in that state of hugging herself and trembling. Even though she was sure it hadn’t been intentional on Angela’s part, Moira had immediately wanted nothing more than to comfort her. To drop everything and protect her. If Angela heard that she’d probably be unhappy, feel self conscious, and never want to show that weakness to Moira again. Unto death.

Moira didn’t want that either.

There was a compromise to be reached here though. She would ask tomorrow about her exhaustion. Not her emotionally brittle state. That was a good middle ground, she decided. If it was something about Oasis or her room, Moira might be able to fix it or work around it. If this was just the state that Angela lived her life in now… Well, Moira wasn’t a psychologist. She couldn't fix all problems, try as she might.

… Angela wasn’t like this all the time, was she? 

The woman next to her gave a soft snore, drawing Moira out of those worries to focus on her again. The slow breaths were only occasionally interrupted by snoring. It was probably the angle, her head tilted into Moira crimping he airpassage just enough to trouble the breathing. It was the same kind of snores she was used to hearing from puppies though, not full grown women.

It was extremely cute.

What wasn’t so cute was the discomfort of having a person pressing their cheekbone directly into your humerus. Careful as she could, Moira shifted her arm, lifting it out from under Angela’s head. The blonde woman jumped slightly as if woken... And then immediately put her head back down, now much more comfortable with her cheek against Moira’s chest. Not quite snuggled up but tucked nicely under her arm.

This hadn’t exactly been Moira’s intention but she wasn’t going to complain. Angela was warm and soft and it felt good to have her close like this in a way she’d not felt before. Moira gently draped her arm over Angela’s shoulders, watching the streetlamps flash past on Angela’s hair. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting about the small doctor’s scalp, she just… wanted to look at her. Tucked safely into Moira’s side. Making tiny breathy snores.

As if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Normally she hated this kind of proximity. Friendly was fine, touchy was irritating. She liked her personal space. She didn’t like to be touched when she hadn’t given express permission. But Angela didn’t make her feel defensive. She didn’t make her feel unsafe. And it wasn’t because Moira was sure she could win a fight against Angela, despite the younger woman’s physique. It was just… Angela. Moira didn’t fully understand it. She hadn’t understood it before, back in their Overwatch days, how could she be expected to now? Maybe with more time and more data she could put it together. The ‘why’ of it.

It was likely the same reason that Angela made her feel the need to touch.

She really should learn to keep her hands to herself or at least ask… Angela hadn’t said anything about it but at the same time it was rude to just presume. Often Moira simply did it as if second nature, only realizing afterwards. She was a grown woman. That kind of excuse was maybe usable twice, at most. The amount she’d just assumed and touched was completely irresponsible

Angela _would_ tell her off if she wasn’t alright with it, wouldn’t she?.

It wasn’t like Angela didn’t have a sharp tongue and a strong will. Before, she’d been able to reign that temper in completely. Hide entirely behind positivity, the occasional bout of sarcasm and let things roll off her back like it was effortless. Now though, Angela’s temper was more raw, easier to flare given the right stress and fed by irrationalities. Moira usually disliked those with a temper… despite being guilty of the same sin. 

Maybe it was because of that.

It was one of the few things she really hated about herself but had never found a way to change. At least her vocabulary was so different now that she no longer sounded like her father when she snapped. Small victories.

_“We have arrived at Oasis Temple Grand! Please be sure to take all your belongings and be careful of the curb! Have a good evening!”_

Angela surprisingly didn’t rouse, only making a soft grunt before the snoring returned.

Moira had an option. Wake her… Or take matters into her own hands.

Of course she was going to be an idiot about this. She was Moira O’Deorain, lesbian fool of the highest order… And she was planning on adding apologizing for all her unasked for touching to the list of things to talk to Angela about tomorrow so… What was one more sin now?

How very Catholic of her.

Very carefully she shifted her hold on Angela’s shoulders, opening the door and sliding herself half out of it. Carefully she scooped Angela under the knees as well and pulled her across the seat before lifting her out of the cab door, mindful she didn’t bean her on the head with the doorframe.

Standing on the curb with her arms full of Swiss doctor… Moira realized she really was an idiot. She was a Minister of Oasis hauling around an unconscious, internationally famous, golden girl of Europe.

Thankfully tabloids were not as big of a problem in Oasis as they were anywhere else. She wasn’t worried about her own image really… She’d just hate to drag Angela into gossip she didn’t ask for. But there was nothing for it now. Several people had already eyed her and walked by.

Moira kicked the door to the cab firmly closed and headed for the lobby of the Grand. Angela’s only response to them moving into the brightly lit room was to turn her face against Moira’s shirt to half-hide from the light. Moira didn’t look at anyone else, simply went to the elevators and tapped the button with her elbow.

The small box of the elevator was dimmer. Again, leaving her in the quiet with a sleeping, lightly snoring, Angela… But at least this time Moira could see her face.

Angela might be angry with her for this manhandling attempt at chivalry. She probably should have just woken her up… But she was here now. Might as well finish the thing.

Moira had to carefully get Angela’s wallet out of her coat pocket to get the door-key. Making sure the door closed behind them she used her arm to tap the entryway console, waking up the appartments system and bringing up the dimmer lights.

She hadn’t done anything like this in some years… But she wasn’t the only one in her family that had learned to nap in odd places. How often had Moira found Faidh curled up in some strange position and place? Moira often carted her younger sister off to sleep in a bed properly sometimes two or three times a day when she was very little. It wasn’t a skill she flexed often but… She knew how to navigate holding a sleeping sack of potatoes without jostling or smacking them into things well enough.

Moira toed off one of her shoes so she could push the covers out of the way enough to put Angela down.

She was _not_ stupid enough to even think twice about undressing her. Moira pulled loose the laces of Angela’s shoes, setting the trainers next to the bed, and tucked her still sock covered feet under the covers, pulling the blankets over the doctor’s body and making sure she was comfortable on the pillow.

Angela didn’t even move. She was just… completely dead to the world. It was a little alarming as well as incredibly impressive in it’s own way. Moira could never sleep that deeply except when she was ill or extremely sleep deprived. But Angela was just… Utterly unconscious. She’d been a light enough sleeper on the couch in their old office but those had been naps, not true sleep.

What other odd little things didn’t she know about Angela?

She was still bent down over Angela from straightening the covers, looking her face over pensively. Strong and vulnerable were two words that she’d most associate with Angela after becoming reacquainted with her over the last week. She could stay. Just to keep an eye on her. Make sure she was really alright. Sleep on the little lounge chair near the window….

But that was Moiras idiocy shining through.. Angela was perfectly safe. Her breathing was normal. She was just exhausted and would not likely appreciate waking up to find Moira had invaded her space so completely. 

She double checked the blanket was well tucked before she forced herself to stand up. That was enough of that. She’d taken more than her fair share of liberties in the last five minutes. There were limits on what was acceptable even if she was going to ask forgiveness in the morning.

Moira made sure the lights were off and the door closed and locked quietly behind her.

… Her arms already missed the weight of Angela in them. All she could do to combat it was to shove her hands into her pockets and pick up her pace to get home.

 

When Angela stirred in the morning she felt like lead. She was too hot, she felt a bit grimy, her eyes didn’t want to open… But she was too uncomfortable to just roll over and go back to sleep.

Had she had a nightmare? No… No terror or paranoia right as she woke up. She hadn’t exactly slept well but a night with no nightmares were always better than with nightmares.

Why the hell was she still wearing her coat?

With a groan Angela pushed the covers away and sat up. Yeah. Completely dressed but for her shoes. Had she just wandered in that tired? She remembered being down about her progress on Moira’s problem, leaving to get in the cab, Moira coming with her just to be sure…

And then nothing. Moira had to have helped her up to the room. That would explain why her shoes were nicely set next to the bed rather then kicked to the wind. She tugged off her coat, her shirt, slowly stripping out of everything as she forced herself to her feet and into the bathroom to shower off the grime and unawake feeling.

She was starting to feel like a living person again when there was a cheerful tone from the room’s computer.

*”Minister of Genetics, Ms. Moira O’Deorain, is requesting permission to come up.”*

She lifted her eyes to the screen on the other wall. Eight O’clock on the spot. Had they made plans? She remembered something about taking the day off, going out, but couldn’t remember the details…

“Uh, yes! That’s fine, let her up please.” Better then leaving her to stand awkwardly in the lobby. She quickly finished rinsing her hair of shampoo so she could get out and grab some clothes. If she could dry off and change in here then there'd be no need to rush through drying and not be ready when Moira arrived.

It turned out there was no reason to rush at all, she was able to grab a change of clothes, get back and was mostly dry by the time there was a knock. Moira must have taken her time.

“Let Minister O’Deorain in, please.”

There was a click and the sound of shoes on the carpet of her entryway.

“... Angela?”

“I was just finishing getting ready. I’ll be out in a moment.”

She heard Moira move further into the suite and dropped her towel to start pulling on her clothes. She didn’t have time to blow-dry her hair, the desert sun would probably dry it faster anyway, but she did quickly drag a comb through it, leaving it loose to pull back later.

Tights, a knee-length blue skirt, and a button-up white blouse. That would keep her cool enough, right?

She anxiously smoothed down her blouse, wondering if she should have grabbed jeans instead.

What the hell was she getting nervous for, she was allowed to wear whatever she wanted. They weren’t working so a skirt was fine and if Moira gave her any trouble for it then she’d just… Tell her to fuck off.

After thanking her for getting her back to the hotel last night.

There was no reason to be ungrateful.

She opened the bathroom door, stepping into the cooler air of the room proper, “Sorry, I don’t entirely remember what our… plans… were.”

She’d never seen Moira outside of her normal work attire. The fabrics and colors could change but it was always some variant on the same thing. Trousers, Oxfords, button-up and tie. Honestly she’d come to suspect that was just what Moira liked wearing. Maybe it was.

This wasn’t… _That_ different. In broad strokes. The white trousers were the closest bit to looking professional about the whole ensemble though. The wine-colored shirt was loose and unbuttoned down her sternum. A little gold necklace dangled there, innocently drawing attention to the space that made it very clear there was no bra under that shirt. She had a pair of sunglasses tucked up on top of her hair and one long leg was crossed over the other, strappy heels on each foot.

Why would a woman who was already six and a half damn feet tall feel the need to wear even modest heels like those?

It wasn’t girly exactly, but it was far more firmly into the realm of feminine then she’d ever seen Moira dressed. The satin of the shirt mixed with it’s looseness… The heels…

Angela’s brain had just completely ground to a halt.

She was definitely staring.

 

Victory! Angela was definitely staring. Though Moira couldn’t be sure if it was out of shock or… interest?

Except Moira was also starring at Angela in shock and… interest.

Could she stop staring? Probably. With great difficulty. She’d seen images of Angela at events and functions. She’d seen the guardian angel wrapped in blue, white, and gold dresses and skirts of various kinds… In comparison this outfit was simple. Light cotton. Her blouse had little white flowers embroidered onto the sleeve. It was casual and pretty.

Moira had to firmly squash down her thoughts. Angela had _not_ dressed up for her. That was beyond ridiculous.

This was just a friendly outing. She was going to say she was sorry for her touches and the honestly completely dumb in retrospect manhandling from last night. Yes, she might have dressed herself slightly nicer then she would have otherwise but she did wear these clothes on her off days… She just wanted to see how Angela might react to them rather then something more modest…

But this was just a friendly tour from a local. That was all. She was being a good host, she was checking up on Angela’s wellbeing. She was trying to be friendly and considerate. Not seduce.

“We were going for breakfast.” She suddenly stood, “And then a tour of the less touristy places. Things you might be interested in.”

She tried to smile as she watched Angela’s brain restarting. It was so easy to read what she wanted in the Swiss woman’s reaction. But how likely was it for her to have gone from irritation and disgust to honest attraction in a week? It wasn’t.

She did like living on the wave of hope for the future though, didn't she?

“Right. Yes. Ok. Good. I haven’t eaten yet so that’s… good.” Angela finished lamely, “Sorry, I’m barely awake if I'm honest.”

“It’s fine, I’m not surprised honestly. You were so exhausted yesterday you fell asleep in the taxi. Shall we?” Moira gestured towards the door, following Angela out of the room after she gathered her bag and phone.

“Did you help me up last night, by any chance?” Angela questioned as they walked down the hall towards the elevators.

For a split second Moira wanted to lie. She could say that she only helped her stumble up to the door or something…

There was no reason to be a coward now.

“I wanted you to sleep so I carried you up, tucked you in bed and left. You’re a surprisingly sound sleeper.”

No awkward silence, no sudden snap, Angela just let out a sigh, “I’m sorry. I’m glad I asked you to see me back but I’m sure that must have been a pain.”

Moira almost wished she’d gotten irritated. What the hell did _that_ reaction mean?

“Not at all.” She considered how best to test Angelas actual feelings on the matter, “... You snore. It was very cute.”

She thrilled as she watched Angela’s cheeks go pink and she scowled. Ah the sweet satisfaction of a plan well executed. She really could be such a child.

“I don’t snore. I’ve had sleep tests!”

“They were just little ones. You were like a sleepy little pup in my arms. It was _adorable_.” Moira smirked as she stepped into the elevator.

Angelas pink face was a fine reward for her prodding. She stood next to Moira in a silent huff as the doors closed behind them. Finally she sighed and nodded, “Thank you all the same. I’m sorry I troubled you.”

It was hard to be happy with how irritated she sounded.

Ok… Not _entirely_ impossible. Moira was not going to win any awards for her compassion for others anytime soon… But her enjoyment of Angela’s embarrassment only went so far.

“You don’t need to apologize. I was the one who didn’t even try to wake you. I took it on myself. I should be the one apologizing. I’ve been invading your space without thought or permission. So… I apologize.” Moira watched Angelas expression in the reflection of the metal rather then look at her properly. Angela looked up at her, seemingly confused, then nodded.

“I don’t mind.” Angela finally admitted as the doors opened. The lobby was busy with the other early risers and the smaller woman’s somewhat quiet body language shifted to someone on a mission, “So, what are we having for breakfast?”

Moira faltered only slightly as she followed Angela out.

She walked next to Angela, humming, “There’s a lovely breakfast only place. A bit of a mish-mash of cuisine but I quite enjoy it.”

‘I don’t mind’ could mean a lot of things.

She knew what she wanted it to mean though.

She led them down the street, pulling down her sunglasses against the already bright morning sun. Should she ask? Should she confirm? Yes. She had to. It’d drive her absolutely insane if she didn’t. But she needed to plan the right moment to do so… If she could sit them down at the table then they would be looking at each other and she could have some hope of guessing what Angela was thinking as she spoke.

The morning was a little breezy, the air cool from coming off the artificial lake. It was hard to see but there was a faint, distant shimmer in the sky. A thousand little hard light projectors and collectors formed a protective dome over the city, fueling it’s solar-based power and keep the temperature below down. It was one of the reasons she could wander around with only the basest sunscreen in her lotion and not worry too much about sunburn, pale thing that she was.

This was no temperate climate, but a pleasantly warm 25 was far better than the boiling 45 that was the averages in the summer out here.

The little venue that she brought Angela to was near one of the parks that overlooked the lake. When it was their turn to be seated she asked for the patio and the hostess led them up to the second floor and out onto the open deck. Politely the girl told them they could sit wherever they liked and Moira picked a table that would give Angela the best view of the green that edged the water. Moira would have to have her back to it, but she lived here, she had all the time she wanted to come back.

The holographic menus blinked on as soon as they sat down and Moira chose with little thought. She’d been here before and the Sakshouka was always worth getting. Especially compared to her usual breakfasts of toast with whatever spread she’d happened to fancy at the store that week.

“What do you suggest?” Angela asked, looking over the list, occasionally bringing up an item to read over it’s description before moving on.

“If you’re feeling adventurous I suggest either the Oasis Spread, which has quite a few regional classics. There’s more traditional european fare if you’d just like something familiar, though.” She hummed.

Now? No. Wait. Patience… Let her order don’t be rude.

Angela spent another three agonizing minutes reading through the menu before she decided to go with Moira’s first suggestion.

When she finally dismissed her menu Moira broke almost like a dam. At least, that’s how it felt. Externally she spoke rather calmly.

“When you say that it you ‘don’t mind’... You don’t have to put up with it even if you don’t care one way or the other. I’ve been touching you without regard to if it was acceptable or wanted. When I hugged you the other day at least I asked.” Well… Effectively asked. Kind of told and waited to be corrected.

She was not the best at this, was she?

“I guess I just…” Angela searched for words, “I just got used to it. That lab, our office. It was better for us to just be comfortable with it than, you know, accidentally back up into each other or something else. I’m guessing that you’re just… used to it as well. So I don’t mind it. You’re not making me feel uncomfortable.”

Moira hummed thoughtfully. Used to it?

“Yes… I suppose that’s a portion of the reason.” She tapped her lips in thought, “... But I still should have woken you up. It’s one thing to tap your shoulder to get your attention, it’s another to haul your unconscious body around in public.”

Angela winced, “Did… Was there a lot of people around that late?”

“Some.” Moira admitted, “I didn’t think about it until I had you out of the cab, honestly, and at that point it seemed too late.”

Angela sighed deeply, “... O’Deorain, I really thought you’d have tempered that impulsive streak by now. This isn’t one of your animes where you can just do as you like and have it be seen as charming and endearing. I’m not upset, you were being very kind, but… Please, _think_ before you act. Think _rationally_.”

Moira blinked, stared at her a moment, one of her…? Oh!

She had to laugh, relaxing back into her chair a little. So Angela wasn’t embarrassed or upset… At least she saw the act as kind rather than an invasion of privacy. That could speak volumes. There was still a level of trust between them. Even if it was small and simply because Angela no longer connected her to the more vicious side of her work from Blackwatch. Even if it was only because she could rationalize Moira’s actions and didn’t see her as a threat. A little trust could go a long way.

But anime? 

_Really_

“Don’t blame my actions on that. I haven’t watched or read anything like that for… a while honestly. Maybe four or five years when I think I rewatched an old favorite. My impulsive nature is all my own, not based on cartoon characters.”

Shock and honest upset was not the expression she expected to see on Angela’s face in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was turning out insanely long so what was going to be just this chapter got broken up into this and the next one. Something like 80% of this chapter was written using only one hand or it would have been out a lot sooner.


	7. Exceeds Expectations

The back office was still freezing. Not surprising considering outside it was piled with snow, though she'd thought that with currently being underground they'd have insulated more heat naturally. Maybe the labs were too big. Or maybe Overwatch purposefully kept the actual laboratories temperate but the offices freezing to discourage workaholics.

Ha. As if cold would send her home when they were making so much progress. Angela would just drink hot things and wear layers.

She had to juggle the two cups of coffee between her hands as she got her keycard out. As she did her knuckles brushed the metal of the doorway, making her flinch, almost spilling scalding liquid on herself.

That was the last straw, she was going to kick up a fuss. She’d held off till now because she’d only worked here a year but she was filing an official complaint about the heating tomorrow. ‘Nobody likes a complainer’ but nobody liked hypothermia either. Soft curses escaped her as she finally slid the keycard against the lock and the door opened for her.

She stepped into the half-lived in office. Her desk was on the side closest to the hall door, facing towards the wall. It was mostly organized, papers piling up but stacked and sorted into labeled trays. Her pens and letter opener slotted into a mug that read ‘Thank Your Nurse’. The several screens she had been working on had dropped into sleep mode from lack of input, no surprise. The only time Moira invaded her side of the office was to occasionally pilfer her snack drawer. Something Moira vehemently denied doing but missing pretzel-mixes and hard candies told a different story.

One of these days Angela would catch her red handed and then Moira would be forced to reimburse her. Not that it was expensive… But it was the principle of the thing now. If Moira had just asked for them Angela would have happily shared.

Beyond the desk was a small two-seat sofa, back against the far wall, next to the door into the lab proper. A throw pillow and rug were tossed onto the back, both hers. Despite her gently reprimanding Moira about her dozing off in random places, Angela had discovered that the rooms set aside for people to sleep in were unnerving. They reminded her too much of hospital rooms. So when she did need a nap, she napped here. 

And then there was Moira's desk, it’s back to the opposite wall from hers and never the same as when she’d last seen it. It was a bit like watching an ecosystem go through the seasons. Moira's desk began to clutter over time like wild-growth and then suddenly it would be cleaned and organized again, the flash-fire that cleared the way for the new cycle.

Of course, she never cleaned when Angela complained about it. Only when Moira hit her own intolerance for the madness would she finally wipe the slate clean and start over. It was irritating… But at least Moira kept it to her desk. The office was not big enough for two to share, let alone put up with one person's poor personal habits.

Currently it was only a little more cluttered then Angela’s own desk… but it was also empty. Which was strange. When Angela had declared she was going to get a coffee from the break room Moira had asked her to grab one for her as well. On top of that she wasn't the type to leave the office first. Angela could count the number of times that had happened on one hand in the last four months they’d been working together.

Angela set her coffee down on her own desk before moving over to set Moira's on hers. A toilet break perhaps? Had to be. Her bag and badge were still here, propped up against her desk.

Before she could set Moira’s cup onto her desk and return to work she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Through the glass looking into the lab she could see… 

Um... 

Could you classify that as… dancing?

Was Moira using a pipette as a microphone?

Angela pressed the door pad, stepping past the autodoor into the warmer lab. She was completely incapable of taking her eyes off the spectacle. The music was just the cherry on top of the bizarre scene. Of all the things she could imagine Moira enjoying… Upbeat electronic was not one of them. The language that the female singer was emotionally belting out the lyrics in was definitely not Irish. Something Asian? Angela didn't speak it, that was for sure.

But Moira continued to sing her utter heart out, oblivious to Angela for the moment as she swayed and jerked mostly on beat. Moira’s chunky, two sizes too big sweater looked like a reluctant and exhausted dance partner draped over her chest.

Moira wasn't an amazing singer and she was a god awful dancer, but Angela was glued to the doorframe. Glued to watching her. Like she was a rare beast never caught on film. Working with Moira had been an adjustment. The woman was stubborn but brilliant. Diligent, inventive, critical, and untouchable. But right in this moment she looked beautifully human to Angela. Silly even.

Moira O'Deorain. _Silly._

“Jesus wept! How long have you been there?” Moira’s startled demand almost made her jump out of her skin. She watched the older woman spin to tap her com, muting the music. She rounded on Angela with an accusatory glare which was ruined by her trying to catch her breath, the cabled knit jumper almost sliding off one of her shoulders as it was finally allowed to rest.

Angela wasn't sure how to string a sentence together for a moment and just stared, dumbstruck, before she finally managed, “Ah, um… well. Just a moment. I got back with coffee and saw you… What was it exactly you were doing just now?”

She'd seen Moira blush before, usually in anger or irritation. She'd never seen it reach her ears like it was now though.

“I was warming up.” She snapped, ”Exercise to raise the body temperature. It's bloody freezing or did you somehow miss that?” She turned towards the counter with a sour expression, setting the pipette down next to her com-unit.

But Angela wasn't intimidated. No. If anything she was charmed. She couldn't help but giggle, completely unmoved by Moira’s embarrassed sulk. She stepped further into the room, an arms length away from Moira, and held out the requested steaming mug of coffee, “Well, drink this if you're still cold. What was it you were listening to? I didn’t recognize the language.”

Without Angela rising to meet Moira’s irritation it floundered for fuel to keep burning. Angela watched the woman's mood shift rapidly, reading the subtle changes in her posture and expression. Angela had to be good at reading people as empathizing hadn’t come naturally to her. It helped her to understand and respond in more natural ways. Moira’s walled off nature had always made it difficult however. Now the woman was practically broadcasting her discomfort and shyness… Or had she really been spending so much time with the older scientist that she was starting to read between the lines?

Finally Moira gave in and reached out, taking the mug, “It's… Japanese.” She admitted a little reluctantly.

Angela put her hands into her pockets to trap the warmth in her fingers, “I didn't know you spoke Japanese.”

Moira looked even more uncomfortable, “I… don't.”

“You just appreciate the music?”

“It's…” Moira cleared her throat and took a sip of the coffee before sighing, “It's the opening song from an anime.”

Angela waited… but when nothing was forthcoming she frowned, “I… don't know what that is, O'Deorain.”

Moira's blush had been receding but that brought it back full force, “It's animated shows and film. From Japan mostly.”

“It's… a cartoon?”

Irritation reclaimed Moira’s red face, “... Sort of! Look, Ziegler, you cannot tell anyone about this. Swear to me you won't tell a soul.”

But when she directed what was meant to be an intimidating glare at the young doctor...

Angela could only burst into more light laughter. It was too rich. Moira O'Deorain liked cartoons. Moira O'Deorain liked cartoons enough to be able to sing their theme song in a language she didn't speak. Angela near bent double laughing over it, gripping the edge of the countertop to keep herself steady.

This woman could make a two hundred kilogram intelligent gorilla walk on eggshells simply by existing… And she got excited by _cartoons!_

“Yes, it's very funny.” Moira drawled flatly, “I'm _so_ glad you're having _such_ a good time. Now, I need to know I can trust you never to tell a soul.” Moira wasn’t going to concede just because she looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her.

Angela wiped at the moisture from one eye, “Alright! I swear. I won't tell anyone about your dancing around the lab…”

Moira groaned, “Or the anime! The last thing I need is people not taking me seriously. Or worse, thinking they can _bond_ with me. I do not _bond_ ” She said it like it was some terrible fate, shudder and all.

Angela was sad to hear that for some reason.

“Have you ever put that hypothesis to the test?” She asked evenly.

Moira looked down at her with confusion, knocked out of her defensiveness and irritation again, but didn’t have an answer faster then Angela continuing on.

“Alright, I swear not to tell anyone. But only if you tell me about your cartoons.”

“Anime.” Came the quick correction but it lacked any heat behind it, seemingly a knee jerk response. When Angela raised an eyebrow at that, Moira frowned in thought briefly before continuing, “Anime developed a unique visual shorthand and set of tropes from Western cartoons. There's always been overlap and influence between the two but… they're distinct enough to use different terms, in my opinion.”

Angela smiled faintly, “I don't think I've watched anything of the sort sense I was a girl. There was a show I liked called… ‘Oli's House’ I think? I'm guessing your car- anime isn't made for children though?”

“Some of it is.” Moira leaned against the counter, starting to relax, “Simply being made with children in mind doesn't mean that it's of bad quality or uninteresting… Though not everything I enjoy is aimed so young.”

They didn't leave to go home until near two in the morning. Less work had gotten done then either liked. But the long conversation about genres, series, animation styles… it clung to her memory. Sometimes warmly, as the moment she could point to and say ‘this is when Moira and I became friends’...

And at other moments it was deeply painful because that was the moment she and Moira O’Deorain became friends.

 

Angela stared.

Cartoons.

_She called them cartoons._

It was always an amusing thing, seeing Moira defend the ‘proper’ terminology. Both of the artform itself and of the various genres. Angela could remember a lot of it because of that insistence. She’d not watched a single thing Moira had told her about, she’d never had the time or serious inclination… But she remembered her talking about it because it was one of those memories of Moira she couldn’t let go of. One of the ones that let her see who Moira really was.

_And she didn’t care anymore?_

“Angela? What’s wrong?”

What was wrong was that she felt betrayed. Which was ridiculous. She was being beyond ridiculous. Of all the things to be upset about, _this_ was the thing that got to her?

She wasn’t even sure why!

“Um… Nothing.” As carefully and calmly as she could Angela stood up, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Angela got to the ladies room with little trouble, pushing in and happy to find it empty. She immediately went to the sinks and set her bag down. Why did it feel like she was on the edge of a panic attack? The tightness in her chest, the rapid breath, the urge to run and hide…

_Over anime?_

“Angela-”

She jumped and almost screamed as she turned around. She hadn’t heard anyone come in behind her. She hadn’t noticed Moira follow her at all. She didn’t even notice her hand had dropped to her side where, had she been in an actually dangerous situation a holster would be strapped to her hip. A weapon would be there to protect her.

The pair of dual-tone eyes followed her hand movement before she met Angela’s eyes again, “Angela… What is going on?”

Someone might mistake that expression on Moira’s face for anger. But she’d seen it a few times before. Her eyebrows were too upturned, her mouth not thin or downturned enough. It was worry. Moira was honestly worried. And that was more uncomfortable than anger. If she was just angry then Angela could just tell her to fuck off. In the state she was in she wanted to anyway.

“I’m fine! Why did you follow me? You scared me!” She turned back to the sink angrily, turning on the water to splash some cold onto her face with jerky movements.

“You looked like I’d told you your dog was dead when I said my stupidity was all my own.” Moira’s violet hand moved to her hip and Angela knew she was being watched through the mirror.

“That’s… I’m not upset.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t need to know you to see that.” Moira sighed, “But I do so it’s clear as day. Just tell me, Angela.”

Angela felt the tension in her chest start to build angrily and her eyes watered, “Why don’t you watch it anymore?”

Whatever Moira had been expecting that was not it. Angela could feel it in the air, the feeling that this was stupid. This was beyond stupid. That fact ate at her control. She was losing her mind over a stupid hobby that she personally had zero investment in.

“I… What? Why don’t I..? Uh?” Moira shook her head in confusion, “Because I wasn’t so interested anymore? I basically clung to it years ago for an escape and… I just don’t get as much enjoyment out of it?”

Angela didn’t like that answer. Not at all. How could she just give up on something that had been integral to her life for so long?

“Is that it? That’s the reason you turned your back on it?” It came out as an accusation. A defense of anime as a friend that Moira had just abandoned.

Had she finally just… Gone insane?

Angela didn’t think about the fact that she was still hovering over the sink, face still damp, hands still wet. Her breathing was harsher as her heart-rate had spiked in anger and anxiety.

“Angela.” Moira’s tone was lower, firm and gentle now, “You never cared about my hobbies… What’s this really about? What’s got you like this?”

She heard Moira move to stand next to her at the sink and the fact that she could sense Moira close to her without touching her made her break out in gooseflesh and the tears finally start to fall.

“Angela… You’re going to hyperventilate. Take a deep breath for me.”

When the doctor didn’t respond Moira added a soft, “Please?”

Angela snapped. She rounded on Moira, still damp with water and tears and just lost it entirely for a moment.

“You made it so clear to me that anime was this big important thing to you! You corrected me every time I called it a cartoon! You learned all these words in a language you didn’t actually speak just so you could use ‘proper terms’! It was your whole life outside of work and you just _STOPPED_?! Either you were lying to me then or you’re lying to me now! So which is it?!”

Angela was breathing hard through her mouth because her nose was clogged, between shouting and her tears upgrading to restrained sobs as she trembled she probably looked and sounded less intimidating and more like a mess.

Almost with relief she saw Moira’s face snarl as she looked down at her. The finger stabbing accusingly into Moira’s stomach was probably helping to irritate her. Good. Give her a fight. Angela wanted a reason to fight. So she could just think about defending herself and nothing else.

But Moira looked her over, almost audibly thinking… And the snarl went away, and the expression returned to worried.

“Neither. That stuff was something I used to cope with my stress of working at Overwatch. I didn’t lie to you Angela. Are you really that upset about a hobby I used to have?”

“I’m upset about you lying!”

“No… I don’t believe you. You’re shaking…” Her voice had become even quieter, even less confrontational, “You’re more scared then angry. Why?”

“Because I don’t know you!” She suddenly blurted, “I don’t know anything about you!”

That wasn’t quite it either. But it was closer.

It wasn’t like Angela wasn’t aware that this wasn’t really the problem. She didn’t feel fully in control of herself. She felt wild and terrified and so so so _angry_.

How could Moira do things she wasn’t capable of? How could Moira be so human while Angela felt like broken glass wrapped in cotton wool? How could Moira be so similar to her and so fucking different?! Why wasn’t Moira subject to the same pitfalls that she was?!

Was Angela just irreparable?

Moira’s hand on her shoulder made her jump and jerk away, wrapping an arm around her protectively.

“Two years and I thought I knew you! I was closer to you than anyone and then you tell me that something important to you meant _nothing_?!” She was shouting. They could probably be heard from outside. She’d be mortified but… Right now she could barely think a few seconds ahead. Let alone five minutes from now.

 

Her eyes searched Angelas expression, but she lowered her hand and didn’t try and touch again. A grounding hand on the shoulder would not help here. A hug would likely be entirely rejected. She’d known that their argument a week ago wouldn’t be the end of it. She shouldn’t be surprised that Angela would end up having this out with her so soon or violently. Her natural reaction to anything, any problem, any anxiety, had always been to struggle. Fight or fix. Always the caretaker of all she surveyed... Angela could never leave any conflict to settle or rest for long if she noticed any friction.

And that’s what Oasis was to her, wasn’t it? What Moira’s presence did. It pulled her from her safety net and rubbed against all the rough edges she’d never polished out. That was Moira’s new hypothesis anyway.

The only question was if it’d test true.

“You did. You knew me better than anyone for those few years. I told you, back in Zurich, that you were my closest friend. It wasn’t flattery, I meant it. I might not have been as forthcoming with you as you might have liked but I didn’t hide much from you either. This isn’t about me though. Is it? Not really. You had an old, inflexible image about who I was. About how I related to the world and how I would behave. It’s tangled with your guilt over _my_ mistakes. You’re angry because on top of that you’re scared. You’re out of the bubble of safety you’ve built yourself. In Oasis. With me-“

Moira startled when Angela’s chin suddenly dropped and she gave a sharp sob, Her hand gripping her shoulder tight enough to turn her knuckles white. How many times was she going to see this heartbreaking sight? But she had to stand firm. This couldn’t be ignored or swept gently aside like before.

She couldn’t be a coward about this, for Angela’s sake if nothing else. If it was this awful for Moira to have to watch Angela struggling in pain how hard was it for Angela to experience it?

“Did I hit it a little close to home?” Moira asked gently as the woman in front of her hugged herself and cried. God she hated this so much.

“Angela, please… I can’t just keep taking stabs in the dark. Tell me what’s going on in your head. I won’t keep you here. You’re free to leave as you like. But I won’t. I won’t disappear on you this time.” She tried to keep her voice steady but her words were a little terrifying to utter. To give even that platonic level of devotion away. It gave hints at her old feelings dusted off and revived by their reunion. But you couldn’t gain without giving. It was just a question on what you were willing to give away.

Angela stood still a few moments longer. She struggled to calm her breathing. Just when Moira wasn’t sure she’d say anything at all she finally spoke.

“You promise?”

She’d never heard Angela sound so small. It was barely a whisper and Moira had to choke down a visceral emotional response.

She nodded and whispered in return, “I promise. You said you wouldn’t just leave me to my fate. I promise I won’t leave you to yours.”

Angela leaned forward, taking half a step to rest her head softly against Moira’s sternum. It made all the air leave her lungs. Immediately she wrapped her arms around Angela. Lightly at first but as Angela gave another sob again Moira pulled the smaller woman tightly to her. The fact that they were in a public toilet was completely forgotten. She just held Angela, heedless of their vulnerability or any tears that Angela might be getting on her skin or shirt.

“I have you.” She whispered into Angela’s hair, “It’s alright. Get it out, we have time. I’ll abuse my privileged position to throw out anyone that bothers us.”

Angela shook and hiccuped oddly and it took Moira a moment to realize she’d almost laughed. She was tempted to make another joke but… That would possibly put them back in this position in another weeks time. So instead she went silent a moment, letting Angela’s tears calm. It was difficult to know when to push her again.

Angela spoke before she got the chance to figure it out.

“You must think I’m a complete wreck.” she sniffed.

“Only a minor one.” Moira admitted gently, “I think you are a woman with a lot of unpleasant history. A lot of guilt and anger that you don’t want to show. And I don’t think it will be any better if you keep it buried. I’m not a therapist… But I can at least listen.”

And then firmly push on Angela’s reasonable clinician side to get her to go to a goddamn psychologist. To hell with not having the right to impose on Angelas life.

Angela pulled back slightly and Moira hesitated to let her go for a second, not wanting her to get away.

“I need to wash my face.”

Moira released her immediately, “Yes, of course.”

Angela tucked her bangs behind her ear as she bent over the sink again and rubbed her face with the cold water.

Moira watched her and pushed her hands into her pockets to keep them from roaming in unwanted places, “We could leave if you like. Find somewhere quiet to talk?”

Angela stared at the sink for a long moment, obviously wanting this all to just go away.

But Angela wasn’t a coward like Moira could be. She quickly drew herself up together again, facing the problem head on rather then trying to ignore or weasel her way out of it.

“We already ordered,” she said plainly, looking up, “And food might help me feel better.”

Moira nodded, “Alright.”

 

On their way back to the table Angela caught a few people casting looks their way. Either because they were curious about the minister or because they’d heard the shouting… She wasn’t sure and she didn’t want to find out.

When they sat back down she was happy for the plants set around tastefully. It blocked a lot of the lines of sight and gave them at least some privacy.

Not that it stopped her from feeling nervous as they sat down again.

Moira sat much as she had at Angela’s kitchen table back in Zurich; Relaxed, fingers laced loosely on top of the table, watching her quietly.

There’d be no getting out of this quietly would there?

At least she wasn’t _crying_ anymore. God that was mortifying. Crying on Moira twice in the same week. Crying on Moira at all. The first had been unexpected, this time…

“I’m sorry. I… I really am... _was_ being ridiculous.” She sipped the water that had been left on the table for them.

“Yes, but I think that’s understandable.” Moira’s tone was still a little worried and so bizarrely soft. This wasn’t something she was used to from before. The occasional soft and warm smile, sure. Once Moira had showed actual concern over Angela catching a small cold that put her out of commission for a day, yes. But this Moira who had held her and soothed her and put up with her spiny defensiveness… No. She didn’t know this Moira.

Maybe she’d never known Moira at all.

“I just haven’t been sleeping well.” It was a half hearted attempt at deflection at best.

“I’m aware, but that’s not what’s bothering you. Not fully. We can try and solve that problem when we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

Angela was a little taken aback. Moira was talking about her problems like… Any problem in the lab really. Getting to the root of the issue and figuring out what had gone wrong with the formula or experiment.

It made it… Strangely less stressful to contemplate. It was an issue to diagnose and treat. It was an equation to solve.

“Yes. That’s true.” She sat up a little straighter, smoothed down her skirt and leaned on her elbows on the table, thinking a little, trying to piece something useful together.

“I am…” Ok, words were still a little difficult, “ _Was_ upset that you…” She sighed and tried to keep going rather then correct again, “... You weren’t how I expected. That you weren’t the same.”

Moira nodded, “And that made you feel… Unsafe?”

“No. Well… Anxious perhaps. Angry.” She looked down at her hands, unable to look at the geneticist across the table. Think of this as any problem. Find the answer, tackle it, fix it.

As if it was that easy…

“I admired you.” She admitted, “You worked as hard as I did, were incredibly brilliant, but you… Didn’t focus solely on work like I did. You had something else. You had your hobby. You went home and stopped thinking about work. I couldn’t do that.”

She still couldn’t.

Moira was thoughtful for a moment, “You were jealous?”

“No.” She chewed her lip, “Yes. I guess, in a way. But I wasn’t really either. I just felt… Inadequate.”

“... Inadequate?” Moira looked confused.

Before she could answer a waitress appeared, placing each plate down in front of them, “Is there anything else I can get you?” She was all smiles, perfect customer service that Angela wasn’t sure she could match right now.

Thankfully Moira was up to the task, shaking her head briefly, “It looks perfect, thank you.”

Once the waitress was gone Moira ignored her food to give her attention to Angela again, “Inadequate.” She prompted again.

Angela nodded, feeling a little more stable for having survived the brief visit from reality, “I can’t do that.” She swallowed, “I work and… Otherwise I recover from work. If I do anything else all I can think of is how much I could be thinking about my work or preparing to work. Train to be strong enough to lift patients or set bones or get across a battlefield. Think of ways to perform triage faster while I’m not thinking about anything else. Experiment and tinker to make sure the Valkyrie suit and my equipment is at its best possible form. Visit a firing range to make sure my aim is still sharp if… If I don’t have another choice.”

Moira’s hand entered her view as it covered her own. This time she didn’t pull away. She looked up again, trying to pull herself back out of herself.

“It’s exhausting. I only did that for two years under Gabriel and required quite a lot of recovery. I can’t imagine what it’s like doing that all your life.” Moira’s image swam in front of her eyes a little but Angela swallowed back the tears again.

“It’s just… What I do.”

Moira shook her head, “No. It’s what you’ve _done_. You don’t have to.”

Angela’s jaw tightened, “... I thought you weren’t a therapist? That you were going to just listen?”

Moira started to pull her hand back but Angela’s fingers caught hers, refusing to let her pull away. Moira didn’t fight her and left her hand where it was.

“... My apologies. I did say that, didn’t I? You go through a few years of sitting on someone’s couch weekly and you start thinking you can solve everyone’s problems.” Moira’s smile was a little more teasing. Still gentle, still soft, but humored as her fingers tightened into Angelas, “I can be quiet if you just want to talk.”

Angela was silent for a long moment until she finally sighed in frustration, “... I don’t know what I want.” She felt exhausted and kind of just wanted to crawl back to the hotel and sleep the day away now.

“Well, why don’t we start with breakfast and a walk through the park?” Moira offered gently, “Then we can think about what you want after that.”

Angela looked up at her, searching Moira’s expression for… Something. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for.

But she was content with the small smile and the gentle expression she found there.

“We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter up within two weeks? What madness is this?


	8. Hobbies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning of rating change.

The breakfast had been interesting. Not that she hadn’t had food from this region, but the spread she’d ordered on Moira’s recommendation had new things she’d not had before. She was feeling far more settled and solid after they’d left and gotten far from prying eyes. It had been conducted in silence but… Moira had continued to hold her hand throughout the meal. It felt ridiculous but it had been calming.

Moira had led them down to the nearby park, one of the many that littered Oasis. This one was meant for walking, with wide paths and a few sculptures spread around the various beds. It wasn’t the wild nature and beauty of the Alps but it was lovely nonetheless. There were quite a few people here, either relaxing, walking, or looking after children who ran about the place.

Children were always children no matter where you were in her experience. Collecting rocks and sticks, playing imaginary games, occasionally being told off for being too loud or bothering other people. She realized that she’d imagined Oasis children kept in stuffy lesson rooms, carted down to parks and activities in lines, expected to take detailed notes on their observations.

She really needed to pay attention to her subconscious expectations didn’t she?

Oasis really was a wonder. It wasn’t like the rest of the world wasn’t advanced, but an artificial lake and a city covered in green in the middle of a desert… She wasn’t sure many other countries would be willing to commit the resources like Oasis was. Not even if they were dependent on the water. So many countries were very bad about looking towards the future.

Sometimes she wondered if Oasis looked _too_ far ahead.

They’d been silent as they’d walked. The fact that they could still walk in comfortable companionship after what had just happened at breakfast… It was relaxing.

Thank god for long lab hours, right?

Moira led them towards the waterfront. Rather then busy with boats or fishermen it was peaceful. This side had no beach, it was purely a stone walk but it didn’t look like any of the other sides of the lake were crowded either. She leaned against the rail when Moira stopped to simply take in the view. Looking out over the softly moving water, listening to the little waves lapping at the stone below her, it was easy to just feel still for a moment. It wasn’t an experience she had often.

“This is quite a city.” Angela smiled, “And you were here to help build it, weren’t you? You must be proud.”

Moira didn’t answer right away, seemingly a little lost in thought.

“I love this city.” Moira hummed finally, “I wasn’t brought in for a few years after its founding and It can be hard to consider it ‘home’... But I do love it.”

Angela looked up a little confused, “Why can’t you call it home?”

Moira put her hands on the railing next to her, glancing down at Angela, “I suppose it’s the difference of living somewhere and actually settling down.”

“You’ve lived here quite a long time,” She pointed out, almost amused, “And you’re a minister.”

Moira nodded, “I am… But I still live in the same apartment that I was given when I arrived. Home implies a place you settle in and a space you’re attached to. I’ve just never felt that way about places.”

Angela thought about that for a while, “I guess I do a little. I like Zurich. I like my house.” It was safe, familiar. She’d been living there for so long now. It was near to her home town of Bonstetten and where her parents graves were. But not too close that she had to be reminded of anything painful constantly.

And it never got the chance to dig too deep under her skin because she only lived there four months out of the year.

“It’s home enough.” It felt like an admission of fault to say.

There was a lingering moment of silence that did _not_ have the calm air of comfort to it and she tried not to give anything away. Just trying to focus on the sounds of water below them. If she looked at Moira she had the distinct impression that woman would read her discomfort all too easily.

 

Moira watched the blonde woman shift her weight between her feet anxiously as the silence stretched. There were a lot of things she wanted to say, a lot of questions she wanted to ask… But again she wasn’t sure about pushing or letting Angela open up slowly. What if she didn’t open up at all?

But then it came back to her. Her original plan. It might still have a use after all.

“Is there something wrong with the hotel room?” She asked a little abruptly, jumping on the line of thought almost as soon as it popped into her mind.

Angela looked up at her, a little confused, “What? Wrong?”

“Because you’re not sleeping well.” Moira explained plainly, “You didn’t seem nearly so tired in Zurich.”

Angela stared at her like she was particularly thick, “... Because I was home? I’m not used to the hotel room. When I don’t sleep at home I tend to be surrounded by people too so… It’s not something I can really do much about.”

Moira frowned, “So you either need people nearby or you need to be home?”

“... Sure. That’s a way to put it I suppose.” Moira tried not to roll her eyes at the way Angela sounded like she was just trying to placate Moira.

“So, come stay with me.”

It was a simple and brilliant solution. Her apartment was small, she took up an ungodly amount of space with her long and tall person which could make up for the lack of quantity... It was perfect.

So, why was Angela staring at her like that?

“What?”

Angela shook her head, sounding mildly irritated, “I mean, thank you but that’s… That’s kind of not…” She looked away, down the path they’d come from with a frown.

“My apartment is smaller,” She started counting off the points on her fingers, “Relatively lived in, clean… And another person will be there. It also means that if you’re so tired you can’t stay awake I won’t have to carry you out in public.”

Angela stammered, “That is… You realize how ridiculous that sounds right? And the hotel room is already booked! I’ve got music and things that I listen to to help me sleep!”

“Which clearly aren’t working or you wouldn’t be so damned tired. It’s not ridiculous at all, I’m simply solving the problem presented to me. _And_ I booked it, so even if I was paying for it then it’d be my choice on if losing the money was worth it. Which it obviously is because you’re miserable.”

Angela still wouldn’t look at her and had gone silent.

That would not do.

Moira moved around her, trying to catch her eyes, but Angela looked down to keep herself from being seen.

Stubborn woman. 

Moira crouched suddenly, looking up at Angela’s face, catching her startled look and _bright_ pink face. The younger woman made a strangled noise and looked up.

Now this was just becoming _childish!_

So of course Moira was keen to keep playing.

Height was on her side as she sprung up to her full height. Doing so made her take a step forward to keep her balance though, catching herself on the railing behind Angela. While she did get a good look at Angela’s face, red cheeks in the midday sun contrasting nicely with her white blouse… She also managed to pin Angela to the spot.

Well.

This hadn’t exactly been planned on her part, but Moira often found some of the best things in life were happy little accidents you stumbled on while chasing what you wanted. In her opinion this was a wonderful conclusion to the game, if a little ridiculous for two women their ages to be playing.

Angela looked like she was experiencing a sequencing null error. Eyes wide, cheeks pink, mouth slightly open in surprise…

“The point is.” Moira said, pushing on abruptly as she continued to stand in Angela's space, “That I’m guessing you feel unsafe? Unfamiliar surroundings, no one around to help keep an eye out for danger. Your lizard brain seems convinced there’s a leopard around every corner. If I make you feel unsafe, that’s one thing and I'll very well mind my own business. But if my presence is at least tolerable, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re in my care.”

She was only worried that moving away would give Angela the space she wanted to try and be ridiculous again. If she said no or asked Moira to move she would. Really… Even if she could smell the smaller woman’s shampoo. Even if she wanted to run her hands through those loose, lightly curling locks.

Focus on the problem you ridiculous fool so you don’t do something completely unconscionable.

A difficult thing considering the fact that she looked so kissable.

She could at least let the poor woman go now for christ sake…

She’d never really let go of Angela, had she? All this playing at keeping her distance, at professionalism and then friendliness. It was all just ways for her to cover up the fact that while she’d hardly been pining away the years she’d never really gotten over this remarkable woman. Not that she regretted holding herself back. Her reasoning stood firm. No, it seemed that she’d just gotten better at lying to herself as she got older.

She really had to consider if she’d reached out to Angela less as the co-creator of the nano-biotics and more in service to her own desires. She didn’t doubt Angela could help her crack the problem… But Moira had been scared and in that fear she’d made a snap decision. And now here she was. Playing games like a schoolgirl with a crush. With a woman she hadn’t seen in so long they might as well be strangers.

She’d be in a lot of trouble if the good doctor ever figured out how much power she seemed to command over Moira merely by existing.

 

It was oddly easy to forget with polite distance how tall Moira actually was. How she could loom, intentionally or not. There was a small, ridiculous voice in the back of Angela's mind that was convinced the only thing to do was to flip backwards, land in the water and swim like hell for distance.

Or she could grab Moira by the arm and belt and throw _her_ into the water.

No. She would not actually do that. She was an adult. Not that the last two minutes had really proven that fact for either of them.

Maybe if she had more experience with these sorts of things she’d have the confidence she needed or the wisdom to know what to do. Did she scold Moira for invading her space? Did she ask her to back up and give her air? Did she ignore the minimal discomfort of her embarrassment and enjoy the proximity? Perhaps she could ask for another hug and then they could talk about Moira’s ‘solution’ more?

What the hell did she do? Rational brain had tried to pull out a solution, only come up with questions and ceded the floor to irrational brain. Except irrational brain was the reason she was here to begin with and had no idea how to un-dig herself from this situation.

She had no fucking clue and sitting here like a fish in a bucket wasn’t going to help matters in the slightest. She needed some kind of guideline here.

What would Fareeha do?

Fareeha the brave and charming. Fareeha the outgoing and honest. Fareeha the… sometimes brash but often just very blunt.

She knew what Fareeha would do in her shoes.

Nervously she reached up. Moira’s eyes flickering to her hand almost froze her in place again, but she forced the action through. Hesitations rarely saved lives and she’d been spotted now, she had to commit to this course of action.

It was fairly abrupt and not at all as smooth as her dear friend might have pulled it off. Her fingers wrapped around the back of Moira’s head while the other rested on her cheek as she pulled the tall woman demandingly down to her.

It was not the soft, earnest kiss they’d shared so long ago. It was sudden and a little harsh. Moira made a sound of alarm as their faces met that startled Angela. She let go of of the taller woman immediately and pulled back.

Honestly it was more of a small, mouth-first, headbutt then a kiss due to her ‘enthusiasm’... And panic.

Moira stared at her from only inches away, eyes wide, clearly shocked.

“I’m sorry. That was stupid. I should have… I-I don’t know.” Her hands were still hovering in the air from letting go of Moira. She probably looked like she was being held up at gunpoint.

Could you go to jail for being a complete moron? She had just assaulted a minister. Did Oasis even have a prison?

 

That was possibly the worst kiss Moira had ever had. They’d collided in such a way that she’d bit her lip on the inside, not enough to bleed but it still smarted.

It still managed to be the best thing she’d experienced in quite a while.

It was the kind of bruise that begged to be kissed better… And considering Angela had caused it it was perfectly understandable to demand that she be the one to fix it, right?

She let go of the railing. Her right hand wrapped around Angela to rest on her lower back, her left caught Angela’s hovering right hand like they were going to dance.

She had much better angle and approach then Angela had as she ducked her head. Intent on kissing the doctor silent to chase off the worthless backpedalling she was spouting. No chance in hell Moira was letting this opportunity slip by her. Of course they’d need to talk. They’d need to discuss things. They’d need to compromise if anything more than a kiss was going to be in their future…

God did she not give a toss about all that right now.

Angela’s lips were as soft as she remembered, a little chapped from the dry air. They were wonderfully, _wonderfully_ responsive as well. Angela hadn’t hesitated, kissing her back, lips moving against hers. The hand in Moira’s gripped her fingers as the other landed on her shoulder, clutching her loose sleeve.

Greedy guts that she was, Moira immediately wanted more and tried to urge Angela’s mouth open to her. She was rewarded for that with a brief taste of the tip of her tongue as Angela’s moved out to meet her own.

Unfortunately Angela pulled back from her then. Not against her arms, just away from her mouth. Moira wasn’t quite so pushy as to chase after her. Moira lifted her head a little and watched Angela’s face.

Not that she got much of a look. Angela almost immediately pressed her face into Moira’s chest, just below her collarbone, wrinkling her shirt a little more. She could really care less. Angela was leaning into her rather then away and that felt _amazing_.

“A little fast?” She questioned.

“No. Yes? Yes. Sort of.” Angela groaned, “I’m sorry. It’s just… We’re in public.”

“It’s fine, I’ll restrain myself.” Moira felt like she was going to float the rest of the day.

Would this screw up her solution to the sleep-deprivation problem? That’d be unfortunate.

“Why did you…?” She trailed off and Moira could almost feel her sinking into feeling foolish. Which was understandable a little. ‘Why did you kiss me?’ Well. Angela had kissed her first. Or attempted to.

However Angela feeling anxious was not what Moira wanted.

“I have wanted to kiss you… I think probably since the first year of our nano-biotics project.” She admitted without hesitation.

“You kissed me at the end of it. Did you forget?” Angela’s voice was softer. It sounded like she was frowning but Moira could tell she was far more relaxed then she had been a moment ago. At least she hadn’t yet tried to pull away or push Moira off yet.

It was very hard to be serious when all Moira wanted to do was kiss her again.

“... I didn’t forget, but I don't really count it. I never should have then. You were too young, too inexperienced.”

Angela’s tone was incredulous and irritated, “I was twenty four.”

“Twenty two when we first met. Imagine being attracted to a woman who was more than a decade younger than you.” She tried to soothingly rub her thumb over Angela’s knuckles, “Imagine flirting with someone right this moment who was… Let’s see, you’re thirty-seven now? So lets say they’re twenty-six. Perhaps fresh out of a PhD program. Someone who’d admitted to you that they’d never had a serious relationship in their life. Would you be comfortable with that?”

Angela was silent and finally sighed, “It hurt, you know. It hurt badly. I thought that you regretted it. That I was… Unappealing.” She pulled back, smoothing out Moira’s shirt sleeve that she’d crumpled but her expression, even carefully schooled back to a small frown, held lines of anxiety, lines of irritation.

Moira wasn’t sure if it was her opinion on Angela that had mattered or if the woman had just been hit by a general feeling of rejection, left to fester.

Either way she was guilty of causing the wound.

Moira brought Angela’s hand to her mouth, kissing her fingers lightly, “I’m sorry. It was completely unfair of me. If I were a smarter woman I would have just talked to you but I didn’t communicate as well back then. I didn’t trust you well as I should have either... I didn’t want to give you the chance to talk me into it.”

Angela flushed faintly and sighed, “Even if you screwed it up… I do see your point about the age thing.”

“Of course you do, I’m a genius.” She grinned teasingly, elated at that reaction and that this wasn’t leading in the direction of a fight. It was excruciating not to lean in for another taste but she managed to withhold.

Angela gave her a flat glare, “Why did I want to kiss you again?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave. If you insist.” She smiled softly down at Angela.

It was thrilling to watch her blush and look away.

“Now I want to invite you to stay with me for extra reasons though.” The geneticist hummed thoughtfully.

Angela choked, “There are children nearby, Moira!”

“Shall we go somewhere more private then?” She literally could not help herself it seemed, despite her promise to behave.

The hand that had been smoothing down her shirt gripped her shoulder suddenly. Angela lifted her head and turned it. A set and rather irritated look could not hide the fact that Angela seemed to have decided that her punishment was more kissing.

That was a punishment Moira would happily throw herself on every single time.

This kiss was briefer than she'd prefer, ending barely after they touched. The reason why turned out to be because Angela had something to say.

Moira was not prepared for what that thing was though.

“You said we'd come here to talk about what I want, Moira. Well, I want _you._ ”

It was Moira's turn to be wrong footed. Teasing and insinuation was one thing. This was… much more than that.

“Right… now?” She swallowed and could feel her cheeks starting to burn.

“Out of smart remarks? Yes. You want me to stay with you? Show me your place.” Angela was firmly back in control of herself it seemed. Moira felt a happy shiver down her spine.

Of course… this could be another way for her to dodge talking about things. But maybe this could also help? Moira didn't forget much and they had some time. Maybe Angela would feel safer talking about her problems and what to do about them post coitus. This was an area of Angela’s life she knew literally nothing about… But Moira had once been with a woman who was a little like that for her own reasons.

“If you'd rather not…” Angela's grip started to loosen and Moira's hand on her back tightened, pulling her flush to Moira’s hips in immediate response. The claws of her hand catching on the cotton of Angela's blouse.

“No.” She'd been in shock a few seconds too long and made Angela doubt. Right after the woman had just admitted to being left to ponder if she was undesirable, too. Shame on her. Moira couldn’t let that stand, so she made up for it now in her dark and urgent tone, “Let's get a taxi, it's not too far but... come on.” She let go of Angela's waist and held her hand, tugging her along, heading for the road.

The question was would they make it back before anything happened.

 

Angela threaded her fingers into Moira's when they came to a stop at the curb. Her heart was pounding, but at least this time it wasn't in panic.

Her first time with Fareeha had also given her butterflies but that hadn't been as abrupt as with this. That had been a natural progression after they'd decided to try dating. It had been soft, she'd been calm and gentle, even if she was excited.

Her other experiences with sex mostly came from work. None of her patients of course, but other doctors she was working with in the places she'd go. Those had never been about butterflies or feelings. Those had been completely physical, almost always a one-off, and never spoken of again. That had only happened a few times.

Now though, as the taxi pulled up and Moira got in first, she didn't hesitate to climb in after, closing the door and straddling Moira's lap. Much more aggressive than she usually was. Maybe it was just because this felt like it was long overdue. 

She only half heard the computer beep it’s affirmation of their destination. She was busy sliding her hands over Moira’s shoulders, her focus split between the redhead and her own thoughts.

Maybe it was the implication of what Moira had said earlier...

She said she hadn't wanted to show her interest in Angela because of her inexperience… specifically in the fact that she had had no previous serious relationships. She’d been worried Angela would ‘talk her into it’.

It felt like she was definitely reading too much into too little, but it gave the idea that Moira didn't just want her physically, was interested in something more and lasting. Even though it hadn’t worked out, her short lived affair with Fareeha had taught her that she wasn’t satisfied with just the occasional romp. She wanted a partner.

Moira's hands settled on her covered thighs and the difference between her normal hand and the heat of her mutated one made Angela shiver.

Oh… fuck. That arm. The reason she was here in Oasis at all. Angela had completely forgotten about it for the majority of the day.

She started to open her mouth about it, to say something probably about Moira's health or… something. Her needs momentarily shoved aside for the care of an ill person. It promptly fell out of her head as Moira leaned up and kissed her again. This was a more urgent, needy kiss and Angela sank into it, pressing Moira back against the seat as she pushed herself as flush to the older woman as possible.

This time she was the one who deepened the kiss. Moira groaned as their tongues met. Angela let go of the seat back to run her hands into Moira’s hair. It felt amazing to mess the carefully pinned strands out of place. She was finally making good on that old itch.

She pulled away from the kiss only to trail her mouth down Moira’s jaw, down her neck, kissing and suckling at the pale skin there. Her reward was a breathy gasp from the redhead whose hands were smoothing up her thighs, under her skirt. Reaching around and gripping her ass. Angela gave a small, surprised grunt.

Hmm… This might be a problem though.

“Your fingernails are too long.” She grumbled against Moira’s shoulder.

The woman gave a breathy chuckle, “If I’d known this was going to happen I’d have trimmed them. I’ll file them down for next time, I promise.”

Angela bit her lip. So Moira did want there to be a next time.

“I have other ways I can please you this time around, I promise.” She purred, lips brushing the edge of Angela's ear.

That caused her to shiver and release a sigh, “You better.”

Moira’s chuckle was followed by her tongue, gliding against Angela’s earlobe before she caught it between her teeth lightly. Angela’s fingers gripped at her scalp with a groan as she leaned into that sensation. She could already feel a small release of happy brain chemicals and wasn’t sure if it was more from the skin contact or being turned on. It was hard to say. She had been rather touch starved for a few months now.

Angela let her head fall to the side as Moira’s lips nibbled a path down her neck, occasionally planting open mouthed kisses. She let go of Moira’s hair with her right hand, trailing it down her chest. She’d been absolutely right, there was no bra under this shirt and she could feel the hard nub of a nipple as she pawed over the soft flesh she’d found.

Angela gasped as Moira’s teeth caught her neck. Not hard, it didn’t hurt, but it was more aggressive than before, closer to her collarbone. In retaliation she jerked the top button loose on Moira’s shirt so she could better slip her hand inside, cupping the warm flesh there.

Moira seemed to have no comeback and sat back with a soft humm of approval, “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re as demanding like this as you are in a lab, love.” 

Angela leaned in and kissed her as she plucked at Moira’s nipple. She wasn’t as flat chested as you might expect for a woman who was occasionally mistaken for a man. There was a lovely handful here. Smaller than Angela’s own but a perfect amount to play with.

She seemed to be quite sensitive as well. The older woman closed her eyes briefly, fingers digging into Angela’s rear, her hips lifting under Angela as she let go a breathy moan.

Dear god that was sexy.

Angela pulled back from their kiss, “I haven’t been so much in the past.” She licked her lips, “But you left me hanging for a very long time.” She pinched Moira’s nipple, sliding her other hand into Moira’s shirt to join it, pinching the other in tandem.

Moira gasped and bit her lip to stifle any loud noises. Angela had always liked seeing the pleasure of her partner. Sometimes getting off more on them feeling good then any direct stimulus on her. Moira looked especially wonderful. Not quite exposed as she was fondled, blushing faintly as she grit her teeth against the sensations. She couldn’t hide how much she was enjoying this though, it showed in how she rolled her hips under Angela.

She had half a mind to start undoing Moira’s pants as well.

The alert of their arrival broke the spell before she could do anything foolish at least. Her hands pulled away and tried carefully to rebutton Moira’s shirt… Only to discover she’d literally popped the button off. Where it was now was anyone’s guess.

Moira kissed her briefly, “It’s just upstairs.” She sounded almost apologetic.

Angela chuckled a little in embarrassment and nodded, “Right. Sorry… I got a little carried away.”

Moira caught her chin, pulling her into another brief kiss, “You don’t need to apologize for that.”

Angela felt her chest tighten, but not in an anxious way. All she could do was nod and carefully climb off Moira’s lap, straightening her skirt as she opened the door to get out first. The fresh air and breeze helped put the morning in a little bit of perspective.

She’d thought her crush on Moira had been minor. Mostly a wish rather than anything based on factual compatibility.

It was amazing how quickly she could be proven to be an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd have this done a lot faster and then life hit.


	9. Fusion

Moira put her arm around Angela’s waist as she closed the door to the cab behind her. The apartment building was nice of course. She hadn’t come here a mere researcher. She’d been asked directly to be the Minister of Genetics. Though these models were a few years out of date they suited her just fine still. Passing into the darker lobby made gooseflesh rise on her arms as the heat of the sun vanished and was replaced by temperature controlled air. The usual Omnic guard looked up from their place standing behind the desk as they came in.

“Minister. Did you have a good outing?” The smart uniform Fields wore was hiding a surprisingly advanced light-armor suit. Fields and other members of oasis’s security force were half just for show to ease the mind or handle minor disputes. Violence in Oasis was rare but they did take their security very seriously. They were held to similarly high degrees as everyone else in Oasis, even if their actual jobs didn’t require them to do much usually. There was even some at her ministry, she just generally preferred them out from underfoot. One at the front desk and the others in the security office. The building had other security measures that could be implemented with no wasted life. 

Having guards all around the place reminded her too much of Talon’s various bases.

“Yes. Thank you Fields.” Usually she wasn’t quite so brisk with the omnic but she was rather in a hurry to get home. Luckily they didn’t seem to mind. Still, she’d stop to ask how their garden was next time she had the chance to make up for it.

Angela said nothing as they crossed to the elevator and stepped inside. Moira pondered her silence a moment.

“Does it bother you?” She asked only once the doors had closed.

Angela looked up, shaken from her thoughts, “What? Bother me?”

“That the guard here is an omnic.” Fields was even an older model with some new upgrades but Angela had survived several Omnic related events. Her parents had died in the original Omnic crisis… Moira had no doubt that Angela would be able to tell.

“What?” She frowned and then it dawned on her, “Oh. God. No. It used to. But… It’s been a long time since Omnics frightened me.”

“You were looking rather pensive is all.” Moira tried not to express any undue concern. Angela wasn’t having second thoughts.. Was she?

Her nervous stillness said that yes, she was.

It was difficult to remain composed when she wasn’t sure if Angela was about to break the silence by telling her she’d changed her mind.

“... I popped the button on your shirt accidentally. I didn’t see it before we got out so it’s definitely still in the taxi.” Angela admitted finally in a quietly embarrassed voice.

Moira blinked, looked down at herself.

Her shirt was now open down to just above her belly button, not quite bare to the world, but there was a difference between presentable tease and the prospect of flashing the whole street if she was hit by a stiff breeze.

Moira laughed, relief mixed with good humor.

“Only you planting yourself on my lap could make me not realize I’m walking around half naked. Thank god Fields is a discreet person.”

She felt over the spot where there was a now missing button, the little threads coming away where they’d frayed.

The doors opened with a soft chime to the lobby of her floor and she looked down at Angela, still grinning in amusement. Angela’s returned smile, amused but apologetic, was cute enough to prompt Moira to lean down and kiss her cheek, “Come on, I’m sure I’ll have forgiven you soon enough.”

The small landing had just two doors, each floor having just the two apartments separated by a hall. Hers was the one on the right. She unlocked it with a touch of her palm to the scanner and the door clicked, letting them inside.

Hopefully Angela wouldn’t mind the clutter. She used to complain so much about how Moira kept her things...

 

Angela was quite glad that Moira wasn’t upset. It was a nice shirt and it was rude to just break someone’s things.

At the same time...

Was it strange to say she now had the itch to just rip the shirt off of Moira and feel the rest of the buttons break free? Yes. That was definitely taking it too far. She was only thinking aggressively because she was in this weird worked up limbo. She was still wired, practically vibrating from earlier, but now they’d had to put it on pause and she wasn’t sure how to pick it up again.

The distraction of Moira's apartment was very welcome. It gave her a moment to breathe.

It was both exactly what she expected and somehow different. The entryway was just a living room with an open kitchen attached. It looked like Moira might have a patio as well but she couldn’t see much through the sliding doors in the kitchen.

The table there was a bit cluttered, like she’d expected it to be from sharing an office with the woman, but it wasn't to the same degree. None of it was. The place was decorated with an assortment of odds and ends. Only a few from what she remembered of the little figurines that had once populated Moira’s desk. The others seemed newer. Trinkets picked up from traveling, the odd photograph. A framed clipping of an article about Olympic figure skating for some reason…

A long time ago she’d wanted to know how Moira lived. She’d imagined messy spaces. Scientific journals scattered amid anime paraphernalia and take-away boxes...

It was almost funny how painfully normal her apartment seemed in comparison to that image. Yes, her collection of decorations was a little strange. But… Well, Moira’s entire persona once you got to know her led you to believe rather easily that she was an oddball at heart. That she got into and excited about odd things. A carved nautilus paperweight, a collection of physical photos carefully framed seemingly of nothing but fields and trees, a shelf full of utterly ancient vinyl records… Each thing made little and less sense compared to what she remembered of Moira.

But then again, she really needed to learn who Moira really was.

“Would you like a coffee? Tea?” Moira bent to pull off her shoes, setting them aside with several other pairs next to the door.

Angela focused again and carefully stooped to pull off her own shoes, “No, I’m alright…”

When she stood straight Moira was waiting for her, a little closer then was polite. Her long fingers stroked Angela’s cheek softly, “Is it alright to pick up where we left off, then?”

Angela shivered at the soft touch and the anxiety quickly burned away from that simple question. She reached up, one hand covering Moira’s on her cheek, the other reaching up to her shoulder to guide her down, “Please.”

She could see the visceral reaction with Moira this close. The chord in her neck tightened as she swallowed and her pupils dilated, a side effect of what was likely a shot of adrenaline to her system. The human body really could be a fascinating machine to watch in action. Angela wrapped her arm around Moira’s neck as the taller woman stepped fully into Angela’s space, dipping her back slightly as Moira bent to kiss her.

The mutated arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close as their lips met. Almost immediately she tasted the geneticists tongue again, dragging out a soft humm from Angela.

But when Angela’s head brushed the door, she pushed Moira back gently, “Well? You’ve shown me the living room… Now what about sleeping arrangements?” Her tone could not possibly be mistaken for anything short of a commanding tease.

Thankfully the way Moira looked at her told her the message was clear.

 

Moira stepped back to let the blonde woman up to stand straight and gestured towards the hall off the living room, “Right this way, Doctor.”

Angela didn’t hesitate to walk past her towards the hall and Moira immediately followed behind. Was she more a love-sick puppy or a hungry dog? She wasn’t entirely sure. Probably somewhere in between. Dry spells didn’t bother her. She enjoyed sex, but it wasn’t all that important in her oppinion. Something to be enjoyed rather then required for living. She could get by with herself just fine.

But her desire for Angela was far more intense then she anticipated. She’d known she wanted the younger woman in a number of ways. Sexually being one of them… But, Jesus, did she not understand how painfully hungry for it she was.

“First door on the left.” She directed as they entered the hall.

Her bedroom was not as well decorated as her living room. Mostly it just contained her books and clothes. Shelves and dressers respectively for each. Her bed was large because she’d be damned if she didn’t get to sprawl out. She’d done her time scrunching up in university dorms and Overwatch accomodations and Talon base bunks… She would not give up her bed for anything.

It didn’t matter if she passed out in random chairs or on her sofa regularly instead of actually going to bed. It was still hers and it was still important.

“Do you think this will do?” She asked in amusement, stopped in the doorway just behind where Angela now stood, surveying the place.

“Hmm… I’m not sure.” She felt a little thrill as Angela turned and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the foot of the bed, “Better run some tests.”

Moira didn’t resist being made to sit, “It would be my pleasure to assist you, Ziegler.”

Angela sliding onto her lap again was almost too much to bare. The warmth from her thighs, the weight of her as she settled on Moira, knees on either side of her hips… Her own mismatched eyes looked up at Angela’s blue ones. 

The teasing between them died instantly, washed away like a dam suddenly breaking.

The doctor in her lap gripped her hair from behind and pulled her into a demanding kiss. Moira didn’t grab in return, like she had in the car. Instead she started in on Angela’s blouse, pulling loose the buttons and lifting it out of the band of her skirt. Angela pulled away briefly to shrug it off and let it drop to the floor. The break in their kiss let Moira see the almost gold colored bra underneath, too deep to be sunny, too bright to be an ochre.

So all the yellow wasn’t just an angel motif perhaps?

Moira leaned forward to meet Angela as she finished with her shirt, wrapping her arms around Moira’s neck as they kissed. Angela leaned into her, using her leverage to push her back flat to the bed. Being covered in warm doctor was too good to pass up and Moira didn’t resist as they dropped.

When she finally put her weight on the mattress though, something poked into her side, making her jerk away and jostle Angela.

“Is something wrong?” Concerned blue eyes looked over her as Moira felt around behind her.

It hadn’t been sharp, but firm, unyielding as it poked into her uncomfortably... Moira said nothing for a second as she groped around for whatever the offending things was. Nothing on the bed… Wait, what was this? 

The geneticist sat up a bit more and undid the buttons on her shirt so she could reach inside better, around to the back to grab the hard shape that had stabbed into her. What she pulled out was the missing button, apparently caught in the fabric and having fallen into her shirt when Angela’s excitement had gotten the better of her.

She looked up at Angela and they stared at each other for a moment… Until Angela’s mouth twitched and they finally broke, both laughing. Angela shook her head, grinning helplessly, and muttered an apology. Moira waved it off without a word as she chuckled. It was tossed off the edge of the bed. She’d find it later to fix her shirt. Right now she was busy with far more important things.

God, Angela was laughing so honestly… When was the last time Moira had seen that? All worry and anxiety gone from her face. No sarcasm or feelings being put on. Just laughing openly.

Her doctor was heavenly like this. That description was too accurate to call it cliche.

Moira was nothing if not greedy, though. The laughter couldn’t last and she didn’t intend to force it to, but she could find other reactions, other good emotions to draw out of Angela. She gripped the younger woman's hips, rolling them to the side so she was on top, settled rather snuggly between Angela’s thighs.

The doctor’s laughter had cut off with a gasp and she’d looked up at Moira questioningly, still smiling. Moira shrugged off her shirt, tossing it away before she leaned in, kissing Angela briefly. Almost immediately though her mouth trailed away, up her jaw, stopping just below her ear before trailing downwards. There was no protest, Angela tilted her head away with a small sigh, giving Moira better access.

She could do better then soft sighs.

Moira’s mouth kissed the curve between Angela’s throat and shoulder before she more intentionally suckled on the skin. It was so gratifying to hear Angela gasp with a small moan and feel her fingers dig into Moira’s back.

Moira started to pull back but Angela’s fingers and legs trapped her, only letting her lift her head.

“Don’t stop.” Her command was undercut with a need and breathiness Moira had never heard from her. Between that and the growing pink mark on Angela’s throat it was almost too much.

Moira leaned down, kissing her briefly before pulling back to purr her own command, “You have to let go if I’m going to get to the rest of you.”

Angela immediately let go, flushed and watching her with an intense and quiet look.

The geneticist sat up, hands sliding down her lover’s curves, back to her hips. She searched out the little seam that let her pull down the zip of her skirt. This was no slow strip and tease. She was already having to force herself to keep her cool so she could enjoy this and keep an eye on how Angela was reacting. She desperately needed to see Angela bared to her, to feel her skin and taste her, hear all her lovely noises…

She hooked her fingers under the bands of the skirt, tights and her pants, pulling them off all together. Having to back off to get the tights off her feet. The whole thing was tossed to the side and Moira sat back on her heels to look at the view in front of her.

“God…” She whispered.

Heavenly really was a perfect word for Angela. She was modestly toned, her skin looked incredibly kissable, the thick little patch of blonde curls between her thighs... 

Angela sat up, looking somewhat anxious, “Moira?”

She looked up to meet those searching blue eyes and leaned forward to kiss her, wrapping her arms around Angela’s back, holding her up.

“I never thought I would get to see this.” She admitted quietly, “And you’re more breathtaking then I was ready for.”

Angela’s cheeks burned. Moira smiled and pulled her into another kiss. A distraction of a sort from both the emotions and the fact that her fingers and snuck up Angela’s back to undo the catches on her bra.

Her doctor was not to be distracted however. Almost as soon as the first hook had been pulled free Angela had her hands on Moira’s pants, pulling apart the button and zipper almost violently. Between this and the popped button it seemed like Moira wasn’t the only one having trouble restraining herself.

When they pulled apart Moira slid the straps of the bra free as Angela pulled her pants down over her hips. Both garments were tossed with the rest of it.

Good riddance.

As they moved back towards each other there was a moment where Angela seemed like she might try and put herself back on top. That just wouldn’t do right now. Moira was already on her way down and put a hand on Angela’s sternum to push her back onto the bed. Angela made a sound of complaint and question, staying up on her elbows rather than laying flat back like Moira wanted. The older woman grinned teasingly up at Angela just before her mouth captured a tight, dark, nipple.

Angela gasped and gave in to it, relaxing off her arms rather then trying to sit up again. She couldn’t entirely sit still though, arching up against Moira’s mouth and rolling her hips in an animal need.

Maybe it was just build up mixed with emotion but Angela’s nipple felt perfect against her tongue as she teased it, the little nub caught lightly between Moira’s teeth. Her right hand caught the ignored breast, rolling and squeezing the other nipple between the knuckles of her index and middle fingers. Above her Angela was gripping the duvet, groans and gasps accompanying every arch of her back and roll of her hips.

“Moira… Please!” She cried out.

The older woman let go, pulling back.

“Please?” Moira’s voice was dark and husky now, almost a purr. She wasn’t interested in making Angela beg for it right now though and began to shift downwards, taking the trapping weight off of Angela’s sternum.

“Don’t you dare.” Angela sat up on her elbows again, her glare was cut with a heavy dose of need, “You can be a cheeky bitch another time, O’Deorain.”

Moira chuckled, “‘Cheeky bitch’? I’ll remember that for next time then… For now though…”

She had already situated herself between Angela’s legs and slid her hands down the silky skin of her thighs. They spread wide under the attention and Moira’s thumbs spread those pretty pink lips apart. One last adoring look up into those big blue eyes before she dove in.

The slick, glistening folds were a siren song and she was quite happy to give in.

 

Angela didn’t hesitate to run her hand into Moira’s hair as she used her other arm to keep herself propped up. It was a far better hand hold then the duvet under her. Her heart was pounding. Exposed, worked up, and trying not to tremble in expectation. She bit back a mewl as Moira’s tongue first teased over her labia, ignoring anything that was overly sensitive. It felt like a tease but considering the look that had been on Moira’s face, Angela suspected it was her literally looking for a taste. Moira looked like she’d been just as excited to explore Angela as Angela was to have her down there. Maybe she was one of those who actually enjoyed the taste.

As her tongue continued to drag along, ghosting over her entrance Angela wasn’t really sure she cared why Moira was taking it slow. She wanted to grip the woman’s hair harder and force Moira’s tongue where she wanted it, Moira’s intentions be damned.

Then Moira groaned from between her thighs and it stopped that thought cold, instead drawing out a shiver of excitement. Apparently Moira really liked what she found. That thought alone did more for her then the teasing touches and she bit her lip. It was easy to overlook the effect being desired could have on you… But it could be as potent as any touch or kiss.

Angela hadn’t experienced it much outside of her relationship with Fareeha. Most of her sexual encounters had just been those one offs in corners of the world where she was working… It was very easy to just focus on the physical side of things in those instances, emotions left at the door.

Not so much with Moira.

She had just relaxed and accepted whatever fate Moira was going to leave her to when that torturous tongue pressed in over her clit in one long, dragging lick. It sent a buzz of pleasure up her spine, making her toes curl and her stomach clench. Angela immediately cried out, arching back and gripping Moira’s hair by the roots.

Moira looked up at her briefly before closing her eyes again, her tongue didn’t immediately go back to it though, it circled around, barely ghosting past her twitching clit. Angela whimpered a little as she rolled her hips up, wanting more.

Another long, dragging, lick, and then she pulled away again. If it didn’t feel so goddamn good Angela would be irritated. That hot little tongue trailed down to her entrance and pressed inside without a second's hesitation. This was no mild probing either, she pressed as much of her tongue into Angela as she could reach. It didn’t give her a full feeling but it still felt intense, all those nerves around the entrance, that curl upwards towards the glands and nerve clusters lurking just under the pubic bone… Shame it wouldn’t quite reach...

It was getting hard to think about the machinery of the body. About anything actually. Angela was breathing hard and had begun unconsciously rolling her hips up against Moira’s mouth eagerly.

Then the tongue pulled out and Angela nearly sobbed, “Don’t stop… Please…!” There was only so much of this she could take goddamnit, and if she had to beg to get what she wanted then fine! She’d get her payback for that later.

But Moira didn’t heed her plea for a moment, “Will you trust me not to hurt you?”

“W-what?” Angela was still in a lusty fog and didn’t understand what she was asking, “Yes, I trust you.” It just came out without thought. She wasn’t in a state of mind to overthink it for once.

Moira smiled, keeping eye contact as she drew her own, violet thumb, into her mouth, wetting it.

When she lowered herself back down that tongue teased at her entrance again. Almost as soon as her tongue started to drag around the folds that purple thumb pressed in as well. Heat from the off colored finger along with the firm circles it was drawing over her clit pushed all coherent thought out of Angela’s head. Moira was being incredibly careful, using the bottom of the knuckle rather then the pad of her thumb to protect her from the claw-ish nails.

She started to rock into the circles, crying out with every roll of her hips. Moira’s other hand reached around her leg to press down on Angela’s stomach and hold her down best as she could. It could have been taken as controlling… But seemed more an attempt to make sure Angela didn’t buck upwards in a way that would get either of them scratched.

“Don’t stop… Don’t you dare stop. It’s perfect - nnnnmmmm - just like that. Moira…!” Her head had fallen back. She couldn’t see that Moira was watching her like she was perfection given flesh.

For Moira’s part, there was no more teasing or buildup. Her tongue finally pressed inside Angela, rhythmically rubbing up and into her while her thumb kept the tempo relentless.

The building knot in Angela’s gut hit breaking point and her breathing hitched, going silent as her body tensed. The first wave of pleasure made her jerk upwards, but she was kept mostly pinned by Moira’s hand. That tongue and thumb didn’t let up like she was used to though. Usually the first crest of her orgasm would hit and she or her partners would pull away. Moira just kept going, sending lightening through her nerves with every circle around her pulsing clit, dragging Angela down under the electric pleasure in a way the doctor had not been prepared for.

The second wave made her tense muscles jerk up again but still Moira kept her pinned. It didn’t stop her from arching her back off the bed, head crushing back against the edge of the pillows.

The third finally broke Angela’s strangled silence as she cried out and collapsed into a panting heap on the covers, twitching.

It was only then that Moira finally pulled away, sitting up and wiping her chin.

There was a moment of silence except for Angela’s ragged breathing. Moira just sat and watched her, giving her space to breathe. She didn’t need to guess or have rational mind engaged to read the mix of emotions on Moira’s face. Satisfaction, excitement…

Affection.

The last one wasn’t an expression that Angela was deeply familiar with from the woman, but she had seen it a few times. It was in those sleepy smiles Moira would give her when Angela shook her awake. It was in the worried frowns when Angela was ill or upset. It was a softness in her eyes and movements easily missed that had made Angela’s chest ache painfully for so long thinking back on what had happened between them.

It was part of what had fueled her guilt for not having stopped Moira’s mistakes.

Angela reached up towards her invitingly and she was relieved that Moira immediately responded. She moved to the side so that Angela wasn’t under her. Angela rolled onto her side to follow, snuggling in against the older woman comfortably.

It was easy to become overly comfy like this, tangled with the geneticist. She wasn’t as boney as you might expect, though she hardly had the padding or muscle Fareeha had.

“... I don’t want you to think I’m a pillow princess. I just need a minute.” She hummed against Moira’s sternum, even as her eyes closed.

Moira chuckled, “I would have been surprised if you were that way. Take your time.”

Before Angela had to re-engage rational brain and irrational brain came with it, she just wanted to enjoy this moment. This feeling. The idea that this could work… Somehow. Before anxiety sunk back in and she began to figure out all the ways she would ruin it before it’d even started.

 

It was a delight to see her doctor relax after the last week of watching her be alternately exhausted and tense. The fact that she’d kept working on the problem Moira had presented her with despite that … Angela was beyond tough. But Moira could also see it was so easy for others and even Angela herself to just take that for granted. She’d have to be careful of not doing so in the future.

There would be a more serious talk after this. For both their sakes. Probably about many things.

Not that she was overly concerned about it right this second. She was still thrumming and wired, pining for stimulation. Too hard to ignore.

Moira wouldn’t push or interrupt Angela being relaxed and snuggly, though. Not for anything. Well, maybe for something _really_ good. But only if she could then, later, get Angela to be relaxed and cuddly again.

Moira could tell that this was going to become an important pastime to her. She delicately tucked some of that pale blonde hair behind Angela’s ear, unsticking some of the sweaty strands from her temple.

When she’d left this room this morning she’d been pondering plans to ask Angela tactfully about the things that were bothering her. Now Moira was actually considering how she could convince the doctor that maybe coming to work for Oasis wouldn’t be so bad and also how this apartment would comfortably fit two people.

Or they could find a new, bigger apartment.

She was thinking too far ahead on this. They hadn’t even talked yet. This could still end up being something short lived. For many reasons.

One of them being the lilac colored limb currently cradling Angela.

She pressed a kiss to Angela’s hair and was rewarded with a contented hum from the blonde.

“Are you falling asleep?” Moira couldn’t help but tease with a chuckle. Her grin widened when Angela’s content hum turned to an irritated grunt.

“I’m only just getting my breath back. It’s been a while since I did anything like this, alright?” She grumbled. But there was no real anger in it.

Moira only pressed another kiss to her forehead, feeling like she could tease a _little_ more safely, “It’s alright. I understand, we old ladies do need our rest.”

The doctor’s hand on her waist moved down to her hip and then to her ass… Which she pinched. Moira jumped with a yelp and rolled a little away to dislodge the attacker.

“I’ll show you ‘old lady’.” She gripped Moira’s hip again and forced her back into position on her side, flush to Angela.

It didn’t wipe away her grin but it did reignite Moira’s slowly cooling excitement, “You know I don’t really mean that Ange- Ahh…” Angela’s mouth had found her throat and was pressing suckling kisses down the line of sensitive skin.

Angela didn’t respond. She only pulled Moira’s leg up over her hip so she could slide her thigh between Moira’s legs. The firm pressure gave her a little thrill and there was no shame in the way she rolled herself against Angela’s leg with a groan of want. The doctor lifted up on her elbow so that she was partly looming over Moira now and they turned slowly under her direction until Moira was on her back and Angela was on her hands and knees above her.

Moira had no jokes for the intense look Angela was giving her. She felt pinned to the bed even though the only thing really doing so was the knee between her thighs.

She could easily move away… But nothing in the world could make her want to.

In the moment of stillness and silence Moira had the sudden distinct impression Angela might already know just how much power she held over the geneticist. She wasn’t sure if that thought was comforting or terrifying.

Angela broke the spell by leaning down to kiss her. Moira had to lean up to meet her and bridge the height difference. Angela’s lips and tongue were devouring, demanding… Some other d-word that Moira just couldn’t think of right now. Who wanted to think when they had Angela Ziegler on top of them, kissing them like this?

Moira was so distracted in fact she completely missed Angela shift her weight off her hands and onto her knees. Moira only noticed when her nipples were suddenly pinched. Not too roughly, but not exactly the gentle caress that she’d expected from the woman in what little fantasies she might have entertained. Angela finally pulled away from their kiss and sat up, looking down at Moira, watching her moan softly and grind against Angela’s now damp thigh.

Moira’s heart stuttered at that look. Did Angela look at all of her partners like a tasty meal or was she just special?

A little jealous voice wanted it to be that she was special, even though the idea of that was ridiculous. Angela had had other partners by this point, surely. Other people she had desired, cared for, slept with... She'd admitted to being more aggressive with Moira but that didn’t mean Moira had somehow changed her utterly. It didn’t mean she was giving Moira any more special treatment then she’d given them.

… But it’d be nice if she was.

Angela seemed fixated on Moira’s pleasure and, for her part, Moira didn’t have to play up the sounds of pleasure coming out of her. Angela’s fingers kept pulling and pinching in a way that teetered on the edge of uncomfortable but never quite crossed it… Probably because anytime it came close Moira would hiss or groan in a more pained tone. She was hardly subtle in motion or noise, really. It’d never been something she was good at or had tried to cultivate in any way. And then there were Angela’s keen eyes that seemed to read her writhing body, expression, and gasps like they were a language she already knew intimately.

Was it a side effect of a life lived studying others expressions and emotions to parrot them more naturally?

Just what could Angela read in her that Moira didn’t think to hide?

The older woman groaned in relief as Angela’s fingers released her finally, apparently done with this sweet torture for now. Moira only had a moment to catch her breath though as Angela’s mouth descended and trapped the nipple between her lips. The soft, wet, heat of her mouth was a balm against the slightly bruised feeling and Moira gasped at how gentle she was now. The littlest lick of her tongue sent ripples of soothing pleasure across her nerves and down her spine. The contrast had to have been intentional. The firm, unyielding fingers against this new, soft, attention…

Not that she’d ever viewed Angela as a pure and innocent kitten, but having this raw example that she really understood what she could do to another person was visceral.

She wanted to know what else her doctor could do.

“Angela…” Moira lifted her head to look down at the blonde. Angela lifted her head and looked up at her… But only for a second before she lowered her mouth to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. Moira cried out softly, throwing her mutated arm over her eyes. Her other hand reached up to stroke into Angela’s hair, holding the silky strands back from her face.

It was when Angela started to lazily flick her nipple back and forth with her tongue that Moira finally figured this had to be pay back for all the teasing. Even as mild as it had been. Angela wasn’t just enjoying her squirming and noises, she was exacting revenge. She had to be.

“... Angela, please!” She gasped out in earnest.

Moira O’Deorain did not beg for just anyone… But she could do a little for Angela without complaint.

The blonde’s response was immediate. She sat up and the slight smirk on her face made it clear that Moira had guessed correctly.

The red-head peeked at Angela from under her arm, “You could have just told me what you wanted.” Moira’s expression was somewhere between a pout and a scowl… But she was just putting it on really.

“And get it right away? No, thank you. You deserved a little squirming.” Angela was grinning, but something made her pause, that confidence slipping briefly, “I wasn’t too rough was I? Are you alright?”

Moira couldn’t help but laugh warmly and she reached up, cupping Angela’s cheek with one hand while the other tucked her loose hair behind her ear, “I’m more than fine. I’d barely call that rough, love.”

Angela’s cheeks heated under Moira’s hands. It was incredibly cute, but Moira was done teasing for now, her smile remained warm and she didn’t comment.

And for this virtuous restraint she was rewarded with a soft kiss.

Who knew behaving could lead to rewards?

She might behave more often.

Maybe.

“Just tell me if something doesn’t work?” Angela insisted as she pulled back.

Moira nodded and took a deep breath as she felt Angela’s hand smoothing down her ribs, over her stomach. She shivered when Angela’s fingers traced the line of her hip and spread her free leg a little as fingers slid through the curls of her pubic hair.

The blonde sat up and back, moving her thigh out of the way and lifting Moira’s knee with her free hand so she could slide her fingers over the older woman’s damp folds. Not teasing, just exploring. Moira sighed as her heartbeat sped up again, watching her doctor.

Moira was not a shy person when it came to this sort of thing. She’d never been ashamed of her body outside of the usual teenage angst. But she’d also felt a little outside her body most of the time. It was only in moments like this that she felt completely grounded in it.

The older woman had to wonder if her body was as pleasing to Angela as Angela had been to her.

The answer was obvious if you looked at how rapt Angela’s attention was on her.

Angela’s middle finger pressed through her slick sex, past the entrance to her vagina and finally pressing over her clit firmly. Moira let a lewd, low, moan roll out of her. She pressed her hips up against the invading digit. Angela stroked back over it and then up again, a slow and firm flick back and forth that made Moira’s hands, with nothing to do, paw at herself.

“G-good… Mmmmkeep going.” She groaned. Her nipples were still a bit tender and she didn’t have to do more then trace her fingers over them to add to the shocks of pleasure coming from below.

The thumb of Angela’s other hand replaced her middle finger, less a flick now then a torturously good massage. The middle finger slid back down and into Moira’s hot and aching pussy. Moira rolled her hips against that, moaning a little louder. Angela couldn’t stop her, both hands occupied. Angela simply rolled with her, watching every movement intently.

Her middle finger slid in and out at the same rhythm that her thumb rubbed over Moira’s clit. Moira raised her hips with every little thrust, trying to get just a little more friction out of it.

Angela’s Index finger joined the middle one a moment later and they curled upwards, intentionally dragging against the rough spot where the nerves were a tangle of nerves was waiting.

“Ah. Fuck! Angela… God, yes... More of that!” Moira was breathing hard now, trying desperately to keep the rhythm with Angela’s fingers as her legs trembled.

Angela was smiling a little softly. Not a cruel tease, she seemed genuinely to be pleased with Moira’s pleasure. 

“I’m glad you like it. Are you a quick one or a slow one? You seem to be enjoying it direct without as much foreplay so I’m guessing you’re quick…” She hummed thoughtfully, “Don’t be too quick though. I love seeing you like this.”

That sentence singlehandedly ignited all of her nerves. She didn’t realize that she could become more aroused and could only give a needy whine in response to that request. Whatever might have been left of her image of Angela as the romantically naive young woman was thoroughly swept away into the bin. All hail the sexually literate and assertive Angela, long may she reign.

Moira started to lose the rhythm as she felt her climax begin building. Was she quick? Not usually. At least, not unless she was by herself. It took extra time with partners, sometimes it never came with some of them. It hadn’t always been their fault, either. She wasn’t the easiest to get off.

Was Angela just that talented or was Moira just that excited to finally have the doctor in her bed?

Moira wasn’t going to be able to answer anything while she was writhing under Angela’s mercy like this.

The blonde above her shifted slightly and kissed her, quieting the noises briefly, “If it’s too much you’ll tell me?”

The older woman was more feeling than thinking in that moment, “I will.” She reached up, smoothing some of Angela’s hair back as she pulled her in for another kiss, breathing hard as they pulled apart.

“I’m… Getting closer.” She panted. Her hips were only jerking up irregularly now, hardly in any rhythm but Angela still managed to keep pace with her mostly.

Angela smiled and nodded, “Go on. I want to see it.”

Moira wasn’t in the business of denying such requests.

 

It was easy to see Moira was near the edge as her lithe body started to tense and her expression almost looked angry. Not that it really was. People’s honest orgasm faces tended to be pretty amusing when taken out of context and in context were delightfully lewd.

Angela watched Moira curl and tremble slightly and when she was sure the first wave of that pleasure had hit she resisted the urge to pull away like she was used to. She just kept her fingers rolling in and out of Moira, rolling over the now twitching, sensitized nub…  
There was so much power in having someone like this. There was a feeling of control and comfort. Her hands healed but rarely did they bring happiness. But Moira, a difficult person in her life, a mask that her nightmares used to taunt her, being weighty and real and hot and human under her and around her fingers…

It was potent.

She was glad she hadn’t pulled away.

Moira moved before Angela was ready really. Suddenly reaching down and grasping Angela’s wrist, “Ok. E-enough.”

Angela immediately stopped and pulled her hands away, a little anxiety creeping in, “Too much?”

“What?” Moira was intentionally taking deep breaths to try and calm her heart, relaxing back finally, “No. God, no. Come here.” She patted the bed next to her and Angela moved forward to lay on her side, Moira wrapped an arm around her comfortably and when Angela laid her head against Moira’s chest she could just make out the faint thump of her heart.

“I need to… Just catch my breath.” The red-head was grinning faintly when Angela glanced up at her, “Then we can talk.”

Angela blinked, a little confused, “Talk?”

Moira nodded and slowly, with a groan, rolled onto her side towards Angela, returning to that cuddled up position, “Given where we went to from this morning to now… There’s a lot of things we should sort out, don’t you think?”

And, just like that, Ration and Irrational brain had re-engaged and the sense of peace and calm was ruined.

… Honestly everything was ruined wasn’t it? Rational brain said they should talk… But that there was a chance that it would end with them never speaking again. Irrational brain was urging her to just take that route right now. Pull away, get up, get dressed, get out of the apartment, get on a goddamn plane and go home because _what the hell had she been doing here this whole time anyway?!_ Wasting time! Both of theirs! This could never work out! How could she expect it to!?

“Angela?” Moira pulled away slightly, sitting up on her elbow so she could see Angela’s face, voice concerned.

Angela couldn’t figure out what expression she was making or what she was supposed to look like right now… So panic won out. She sat up abruptly, turning away to drop her legs off the side of the bed.

“Sorry, I…” She grasped for a lie. Say she needed to use the toilet and flee? Say she just needed a little space and they could meet for dinner (and then flee)?

Usually she wasn’t this hesitant or troubled by this kind of thing.

Usually it didn’t matter this much either.

There was movement behind her and an arm wrapped around her waist, then the other. Angela was pulled back against Moira who had to lean a little awkwardly to hold them together, Moira’s chin hooked over her shoulder.

“Angela.” The red-head started softly, “If you really don’t want to stay… I understand. I won’t keep you. But I want you to stay, even if it means you leave later. I’d rather try the experiment and fail than never try at all.”

Angela was silent for a long moment, mostly because she was afraid if she opened her mouth to respond she’d only cry. Did she want to stay? Irrational brain was torn. It wanted this to work out. It wanted someone to love and be loved by. But it also knew that there were so many things that could get in the way of that. Wouldn’t it just be easier to cut it off now? Save herself the pain?

Rational brain took a while to respond. But, it did like that sentiment. Better to try the experiment and fail and know for sure then not and be left with ‘what ifs’. That was something it could agree with. Without testing you have no data. Without data you can’t make informed decisions.

And Moira had proven again and again on this little adventure that while she wasn’t perfect… She did not mean Angela any harm. Quite the opposite actually.

“Ok.” Was all she could manage.

Moira kissed her shoulder softly, “Come back to bed then.”

Angela slowly laid back with her, curling up comfortably against her again. Moira’s arms wrapped securely around her. It was hard to completely silence the anxious thoughts or the logical ways that this would fall apart. But at least, with Moira curled around her like this she did feel grounded. She thought that when Fareeha had held her and she’d felt this way it was because of their long standing friendship and understanding each other. But maybe it was simpler than that. It was just someone fulfilling Angela’s desire to be accepted and wanted.

And for right this moment, that could be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took far too long to write, I'm so sorry. I ended up writing something like 9k words and then cutting back a lot of fluff and got anxious about the whole thing. Over the next month and a half I'll be visiting my wife with only writing available to me as a creative outlet so the plan is that I'll be writing a lot more of ZSG over the next couple of months. Wish me luck!


	10. Formation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Childhood Abuse

The sound of glass breaking was both very familiar and always startling. She’d learned from a young age to tell the slight differences between an accidental drop and an intentional shatter. It was usually very easy because the later was accompanied by shouting.

It had stopped really bothering her. Honestly.

The noise she couldn’t stand was Fia’s quiet tears. Her little sister, shoes still muddy from when they’d come in from playing, curled up in the corner next to the coat rack and covering her ears, trying to be quiet as a church mouse even as her little shoulders shook, face squashed into her knees…

Moira had seen this a hundred times it felt like. They would hear their parents screaming, their father breaking things, their mother sobbing... And Fia would hide and cry. Scared and upset. Moira would alternate between standing silent guard nearby and silently comforting her. They never talked about it. Fia never said which she prefered…

Very occasionally Moira would become irritated with her. What good did her crying do? Nothing!

But she never said that. Fia wasn’t like her. Moira could scare off angry alley cats without hesitating. Moira chased bugs and frogs and never-mind what she tripped over. Moira was tough girl and couldn’t be stopped.

Moira liked that Fia was so gentle and sensitive, even if sometimes Moira just wanted to tell her to suck it up and stop her crying. Their ma was a crying drunk. Their da was an angry nut. Moira was old enough to know that this wasn’t really normal. That other kids from school didn’t go home to a house full of broken glass and screaming. Those kids weren’t on first name basis with cops and child services.

But it was Fia’s persistently sweet nature that made her understand that not everyone was like this. Fia couldn’t really raise her voice even if she wanted to. Fia carried around plasters for herself and anyone else who might need them, giving them away to other kids without a second thought. Fia was the type to gently help snails across the road so they didn’t get run over or stepped on.

She was like a field of flowers to Moiras blackberry hedge, easily trampled but would grow back with a little sun and rain.

Standing there, watching Fia cry in the mud room and listening to their mother sob and her father say terrible things…

Moira finally decided she was sick of watching Fia get trampled.

It was alarmingly easy to pick up the dirty bowl from next to the sink as she walked past and hurl it across the room. It exploded against the wall and the shouting from both adults suddenly stopped as her father startled. She’d meant to hit him but… It was probably better, in hindsight, that she hadn’t.

Fear and strength seemed to rush through her with the adrenaline. It was a potent kind of power that made her feel like she was vibrating head to toe. She had shut them both up. _She didn’t just have to put up with this._

Her father didn’t get the chance to start yelling again because Moira had inhaled as much air as her gangly, twelve year old body could hold and all but screamed years of built up hateful words right into his face.

That was the first night she’d ever been slapped. It was the first night that she’d learned mentioning Fia would turn her into a target. The night Moira learned that her mother would let her simply become the target for their fathers temper so she could slink off and drink herself into a stupor.

But none of it could silence her. Moira would never be silenced ever again.

 

There were some noises that would always wake her; The beep of certain machines, the hiccups of tears, loud footsteps on stairs…

But breaking glass was the thing that would get her awake with her heart pounding, ready for a fight.

Except there was nobody here. Her room was empty.

Wait.

_Her room was empty?_

Moira threw off the covers, trying to remember when she had fallen asleep. The clock next to her bed said it was 20:04pm… The last thing she remembered was Angela coming back to bed despite her anxiety…

She must have dozed off sometime after that.

She grabbed the black robe off her closet door and shrugged it on, tying it off quickly as she padded out her open bedroom door. Very likely Angela was the source of the noise… That or Angela had slipped off after Moira had fallen asleep and she had a clumsy, unwanted guest.

If that was the case she was going to have a very _dead_ unwanted guest soon. She’d be understanding if Angela just wanted to leave. It did not mean she had to be happy about it. Any intruders would have to bear the brunt of her unhappiness.

Moira paused in the shadow of her hallway, letting her eyes adjust to the light from the kitchen. Dark thoughts were pushed out of her mind immediately when she realized she could just barely see the top of Angela’s head over the back of her couch. That near white hair was unmistakable. As were the muttered curses.

Moira relaxed and stepped into the light, moving around the sitting room’s furniture to see what had happened. Angela, dressed in little but her underwear and blouse, was bent down, facing away, trying to sweep a broken glass into a dustpan.

The fact that she was wearing so little put paid to the idea that she’d wanted to leave, which was soothing. Moira hadn’t even checked for her clothes before she’d come out.

“You seem very good at breaking my things, Angela.” She chuckled.

Angela startled, still knelt over on her knees. The pan dropped from her hand scattering some of the broken shards back across the floor.

“Don’t!” Angela snapped with more force than Moira was expecting. 

They both stood frozen in the wake of it until finally Angela took a deep breath and spoke again in a much calmer tone, “... Please don’t sneak up on me.”

The tension in Angela’s shoulders and the slight unevenness of her breathing gave Moira just as much pause as her small outburst.

“I’m sorry, love.” Moira said quietly. She recognized the reaction. She’d personally never been triggered by being surprised but she’d learned that it was a common symptom. Startling Angela hadn’t actually been intentional. Sometimes she just forgot how silently she moved, especially out of shoes., “Are you alright?”

Angela finally looked up, stormy blue eyes searching Moira’s expression. She finally sighed, looking down again, the picture of defeat, “Yes, I just bumped into the counter and dropped it like an idiot… I’m not usually this destructive. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s usually my job.” Moira admitted in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Let me grab you the bin… Then I’ll wake up the sweeper to deal with the rest.”

She moved to the other side of the island to grab the kitchen’s trashbin, pulling it from its slot so Angela could just tip the broken glass directly inside. When she replaced it Moira tapped the wall, waking up the apartment's caretaker system and requesting a kitchen check by the sweep unit. It wouldn’t do to have bare doctor feet get glass in them.

The geneticist watched the little robot scoot out of it’s hidden port under the island and start its route, “Best to let him finish his work before we go back in there.”

Angela nodded silently at her side for a moment.

It was hard to tell her mood like this. It was uncharted territory really and Angela was a mixture of deflated and… something. But she couldn’t tell what. Anxious? Sad? Embarrassed? Likely a mixture.

Moira wasn’t a child anymore though, silently standing guard over someone she cared about because she was too anxious to do anything else.

“Penny for your thoughts, Doctor?”

Angela looked up, anxiety clear on her face now, “I’ll replace it. The glass. I… Really am not this prone to breaking things, honestly.”

Moira shook her head, “I appreciate that. Just buy me a coffee or something instead. It’s only a glass.”

Angela nodded, “... If you’re sure.”

The room fell into a heavy quiet, the only noise was the soft whir of the little sweeper unit as it rolled over the floor in front of them.

“I shouldn’t have shouted.” Angela said quietly.

Moira started to speak but Angela shook her head, pushing on.

“I don’t really know how much you know about… my history. But I’m sure that I have ptsd or anxiety or… whatever else. Some things just make me remember… other things. It’s worse when I’m not working. At least then I have a reason to push past it most of the time.” Every word seemed like a struggle for her, her voice low and quiet. Moira watched the sweeper go about it’s merry business instead of looking at her directly, just listening.

“When I was with Fareeha, my last girlfriend, sometimes things would happen out of the blue. It was hard for both of us sometimes. She works for Helix and did a stint in the Egyptian army… She has her own set of things that make her react…” Angela ran a hand through her hair and Moira glanced at her briefly before returning silently to her sweeper vigil.

“I don’t think being attached to me is easy, Moira.” Angela said quietly, “In so many ways.”

Moira waited for enough of a silence to pass that she was sure the doctor was finished speaking, “Breaking glass wakes me up in a panic.” She started, unsurprised when Angela looked confused.

“I know a man who can’t speak his native tongue without feeling sick to his stomach. A girl who hides her crushing loneliness with humor. A woman who listens to her husband’s old records despite the fact that she’s adamant that she despised him… The point is,” Moira finally looked down to catch Angela’s eye, “You might be more or less challenging, but nobody is easy to be with. In any kind of relationship.”

Angela searched her face again before looking down at the sweeper again, “I didn’t expect you to be so conscious of others or good with people.”

Moira snorted, “I’m not naturally. I’m just so much better at faking it these days. It really started with you in many ways. We were forced into close proximity I couldn’t escape and you didn’t put up with my antisocial behavior. Then I spent a couple of years in therapy and being forced into a leadership position… But people honestly exhaust me. I have limited patience for people on any given day. Stick around long enough and you’ll watch me say or do something incredibly rude just like you used to scold me about.”

“I’m sorry.” Angela rubbed her face, “This must be-”

“I didn’t say that I hated people. Or that I found you exhausting. Neither is true.” Moira cut in before whatever ridiculous thought came out of Angela’s mouth. It was important to listen but Angela seemed to be in a self-defeating place that Moira just could not stand.

Angela was too precious a creature for that.

“But… I’ve been nothing but trouble since you brought me here. We fought on our first day here. You had to carry me to the hotel yesterday, I made a huge scene at breakfast… A saint would find me tiring!” Angela almost sounded… Angry. Did she _want_ Moira to find her a bother?

“You’ve also spent this week working like mad trying to catch up to years of my research, to help figure out a way to control or stop what’s happening to me. You put yourself all but under my care coming here on such short notice and I don’t take that for granted given your history. Our history.”

The little sweeper gave a tiny beep and then zoomed back under the kitchen island into its port.

Angela leaned on the back of the couch with finality, “You really think this could work? My only other relationship lasted six months.”

Moira blinked slowly before she turned to Angela, “... One? You’ve had _one_ relationship?”

Angela flushed and grimaced, “Is that a problem? I barely even live in my own home! It’s amazing I had time for just the one.”

Moira sighed with a faint smile, “... When you put it like that it does sound very much like you. I just… Well...” She shrugged, trailing off.

“Oh just spit it out.” Angela grumbled, seemingly expecting to be teased.

“I just expected that you’d have had several partners by now. You’re intelligent, beautiful, caring, funny… And you make a marvelous straight-man. But I suspect that last one might just be me.”

“Straight-man…?” Angela asked in confusion.

“Mmm, it’s a comedy term. The method still gets used today but the terminology isn’t so common I suppose. I only know it because my grandmother was a great fan of Abbot and Costello, a comedy duo from the mid twentieth century.” Moira pondered this, “I suppose the straight-man is the straight faced, dead-pan of the two. As opposed to the bumbling joker?”

“So we’re a comedy act?” Angela asked her flatly without any irony.

“Probably to someone.” Moira grinned at her, “I just like all the ways you react to me.”

“This isn’t a joke, Moira.” Angela couldn’t help a tiny amount of a smile though, more a soft fondness then actual amusement. Moira was satisfied with it though.

“You’re right. But I’m glad to see you smile again.” She finally moved back into the kitchen, pulling down a fresh glass to get water, that’s what she’d assumed Angela had wanted anyway.

It wasn’t so late… Perhaps some take-out and they’d be able to have a calmer, less panic induced discussion considering the afternoon and evening had been slept away.

It was nice to feel so positive in more than just her professional life for once.

 

Angela was given a comfy, fluffy, lavender robe to curl up in against the faint chill and Moira ordered them… something. Honestly Angela just sort of allowed herself to zone out at the little island table, perched on a stool.

She’d woken kind of dazed, unsure if she or Moira had fallen asleep first. But no nightmares. None. Hazey stress is all she could remember from her sleep. Much like how she’d slept with Fareeha curled up next to her… It was somewhat sobering to know that, at least in some fashion, you didn’t need just that one special someone to calm your irrational brain. You just needed enough trust to be able to sleep next to someone.

Humans are social animals, they require touch and groups and affirmation no matter how big an introvert they were. On her good days, Angela wasn’t that big of an introvert really, but sometimes it felt like the real her didn’t exist. It was all just an act to keep herself floating by…

Moira sat in the chair around the corner from her, “Ten minutes.’ She looked Angela over with those strange eyes.

Moira really was a strangely handsome person. Incredibly tall, the orange hair, those striking eyes and sharp features… Then there were the less obvious things. Her elegant fingers, the slight curve to her chest and hips that was usually hidden but were visible if you looked long enough.

And Angela had spend quite a bit of time looking. More than had been appropriate. And even when she found that she got to see what Moira was really like under all that… It didn’t really take away the mystery and beauty entirely. Just made it less unknown, less uncertain.

“Angela?”

The doctor startled, looking up, “Sorry, what?”

“Are you tired?” Moira asked seriously.

“No, only lost in thought. Honestly.” She added on the last bit when Moira didn’t look so sure. The older woman nodded, accepting is.

“I asked if you’d like a coffee, I have tea too, if you like.”

“Coffee sounds good, thank you.” Angela smiled slightly.

She watched Moira get up and go to the sleek little coffee maker, pulling down mugs and… Ah, yes, brownsugar.

That tugged Angela’s smile wider, “The more things change, the more they stay the same…”

Moira looked up from where she was adding beans to the grinder, “Change?”

“You’re the only person I know who prefers brown sugar in their coffee.” Angela pointed out, “I remember that smell just being part of sharing an office with you. Sometimes the scent of a coffee shop would be just close enough that I couldn’t help thinking of you.”

Moira chuckled, “It’s a cheap and sober man’s Irish Coffee. It helped me get over my addictions from Uni.”

Angela frowned deeply. Her… what?

“Addictions?”

“Mm… I was always too clever for my own good and… Didn’t cope well with academia.” She closed the lid of the coffee maker, “I did experiments in my free time just to keep myself busy and feel like I wasn’t wasting my time having to go through classes I could sleep through in my first few years. I… might have experimented with chemistry and botany a little too readily.” She shrugged and leaned against the counter, arms folding lightly.

“Let me get this straight. You… _Made_ drugs? And used them?” Angela stared at her, caught somewhere between incredulous and concerned.

Moira cleared her throat, “We’re all young and stupid at some point, right? Anyway, school got harder and I couldn’t keep up with it but was also going through withdrawls… So I started drinking coffee instead of tea. I used to drink it with a lot more sugar and a lot of cream but over the years I’ve just slowly backed off that. Now it’s no cream and a couple spoons of sugar. Thankfully even at my worst I wasn’t a heavy user.”

Angela stared and then shook her head, “... I’m both alarmed and not at all surprised, O’Deorain.”

Moira chuckled, “Do you still take your coffee black?”

“A little cream or milk if you have it.”

Moira pulled out a little carton of cream as the coffee started to drip.

Watching her move around in such a mundane setting… It was strangely fascinating.

“I’d like to be with you.” Moira said suddenly as she poured their cups, “Romantically. I’d like to date. I realize I hadn’t been completely explicit. We kept getting distracted too.” The older woman laughed softly, “I feel too old to use the term ‘girlfriend’ somehow.”

“You’re not that old, Moira. Girlfriend would be technically correct.” Angela responded, more automatically than anything. This wasn’t a surprise but the words had made her heart thump and do a strange failing dance in her chest. Moira had basically said it several times at this point but… there was something about her being explicit that made it intensely real.

“Are you… Entirely sure?” She wasn’t sure why she was being so hesitant.

Moira set their coffees on the island, Angela’s in front of her and Moira’s at her own place… But Moira stayed standing, “Yes. Quite sure.”

Long fingers caught her chin and tilted her face up for their eyes to meet, “There’s always the possibility that it doesn’t work out… But I’ve never met anyone who held my attention like you did. Like you do.”

Angela was utterly still for a moment. She had to remind herself to breathe and finally she nodded, “I… Would like that.I would like that very much.”

Moira was just starting to lean in to kiss her when a buzz at the door startled them both.

Moira let go of her, “Just a moment.”

Angela had a little time to compose herself while Moira went and got the delivery from the Omnic security guard, Fields. When she had placed everything down Angela reached up and dragged Moira down to her to kiss her soundly.

The meal was chinese, which was a nice surprise. Chinese and kebabs had been the foods that would deliver to the Overwatch complex in Zurich and they’d ordered in more than once. Stretching their meals from lunch to dinner so they could work late.

“You have an alarmingly good memory.” Angela pointed out as she opened her own carton of Singapore-style noodles.

Moira blinked, “... I do?”

Angela stared at her, waiting for the joke to drop, “Wait, did you… Did you guess what to get me?”

Moira grinned, “I… might have?”

“Why didn’t you just ask?” The blonde wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw her little plastic fork at Moira or laugh more.

“You were being very pensive, so much so that you didn’t say anything when I passed you the menu. So I just guessed.” Moira shrugged, scooping her rice onto her entree.

Angela blushed, “Sorry. I… I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“It’s fine.” Moira said with an honesty that was hard to argue with.

Angela smiled and nodded, “So, I guess we should talk?”

Moira smiled at her in return and nodded.

At first it was just talking a little about their history. Over the course of the meal Moira told her about the half-dozen other partners she’d had previously. Most of them short lived. The first had apparently been in secondary school and lasted all of two months before the girl broke it off with her. Something Moira decreed she deserved as she had a wicked temper at that point in her life.

Angela talked a little about her experience with Fareeha without too many details, that they’d been friends a long time before and that the relationship had been short lived.

“We’re still friends. She’s my only consistent friend really. It ended because we realized we made better friends than lovers so there were no hard feelings.”

“So should I expect a ‘if you hurt her’ speech when we meet eventually?” Moira chuckled.

“Fareeha isn’t the type!” Angela smacked her thigh lightly, amused and surprisingly relaxed, “She’s a lovely person, really.”

Moira kissed her hair and it made Angela feel warmth spread down her nerves, “I’m joking, love. Honest.”

There was a warm silence but Angela could feel Moira’s mood shift a little under her. Sure enough, when the younger woman looked up Moira’s face was a little flatter, a little more unsure.

“I have a selfish request. I guess it’s another selfish request but anyway... I know that you’ve expressed disinterest with Oasis,” She started, tucking some of Angela’s hair behind her ear, “But, would you stay? At least say you’ll stay with me until we find a solution to this.” She raised her other arm, rough purple skin and hardened claws flexing slightly in the dim light from the lamp.

“Or… Well, even if we don’t, if it does reach my heart I’m guessing our time will be up one way or another.” She half smiled, unable to completely hide her fear.

Angela grit her teeth momentarily, anger flaring. Not at Moira exactly, more at herself. They couldn’t undo the past… But they could be doing a lot more here in the present.

“Of course I’ll stay.” She reached up taking Moira’s mutated hand and cupping the older woman’s cheek. She kept that missmatched gaze as she brought the off-color hand to her cheek, pressing her palm flush to Angela’s cheek, “I won’t leave you and we _will_ solve this. I promise.”

Moira looked like she might try and put qualifiers on that, like she might try and argue, but Angela silently kept their eyes locked together, the heat of her surety forcing that away.

Finally Moira relented and she smiled faintly, “How could I doubt you, Doctor?”

“You should know better, Moira. When I say I’m going to do something I do it. Fareeha had to learn that the hard way.” Angela smiled and leaned in, kissing her firmly.

But when they finally pulled back Moira had an odd look on her face.

“Wait... Fareeha. Fareeha _Amari_?”


	11. Malware

Breaking glass was a very distinct sound. Different kinds of glass had different pitches and clarity of noise, almost to the point that Moira knew them like a language.

For instance, the sound of expensive glass equipment hitting the wall translated to; ‘Doctor, I’m having another episode.’

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT DIDN’T WORK?!” Reyes howled.

“Go on, continue breaking things Gabriel. It’s very helpful.” Moira didn’t even get up from her chair, watching him from the other side of her little lab.

“Fix it! NOW!” He took a few steps towards her but had to lean on the table in the center of the lab as he suddenly swayed, “O’Deorain you said it would work!”

“ _No_.” Moira stood finally coming to stand in front of him, eyeing him carefully, “I said it had a higher chance of adapting to your system this time. I said there was still a chance that the degradation of your cells would continue. This was always a possibility Reyes, but your selective hearing grows worse with each passing day.”

Reyes snarled up at her, “What was the point of hiring you if you can’t even do what I hired you for?!”

“I have moved _mountains_ to keep you alive!” She suddenly snapped, grabbing his shirt front and hauling him up to stand straight. He was pale, sweating. This episode must be quite painful. The fact that he was standing at all was… Interesting. A testament to his stubbornness.

She shook him slightly in her anger, “I am _one_ woman attempting to undo the ignorant damage an _entire military science division_ did to you! You should be weeping with gratitude that you’re still around, much less able to shout at me! But I’ve not heard one ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ since I joined your little squad of miscreants! Instead, all I get is this! How am I supposed to get any work done if you break my equipment and waste my time?!”

For the first time he didn’t shout or throw something. He didn’t swing for her like he had that one time she’d called him an utter catastrophe of a Commander. He sniffled pitifully in her grasp as tears welled up in his eyes, “Moira... Please… _Help me._ ”

This man had come out of the shadows like the devil himself to offer her a deal. This man had been slowly devolving into a monster as his desperation and suffering overtook him. _This man kept her working here in a classified basement that she couldn’t leave…_

This man… was just a man.

And Moira was only human.

She grasped his arm, letting go of his shirt so she could help him onto the table as best she could, “There. Take deep breaths now, I’m going to give you something to help you sleep off the worst of it and I’ll take some samples… We’re coming closer to a solution, Gabriel.”

Gabriel didn’t sob, but he did shiver slightly as tears dripped down the sides of his face. He nodded tiredly without looking at her, “I’m going to die, aren’t I? I knew I was going to as soon as I entered that program… We just keep kicking the can down the road...”

“It’s possible.” She was human… but Moira was not exactly the best at comfort. She never had been. She’d always been more about attacking the problem rather than having any kind of bedside manner, “But I will not let you die without a fight.”

She pushed the punch syringe against his shoulder and he drifted off within seconds, not responding to her declaration. She wasn’t even sure he’d remember it. His memory was somewhat fractured these days, from what she could tell.

She dutifully started her sample taking. Hair, skin, and blood. This creature really was an utter mess. His cells couldn’t decide if they were dying or multiplying half the time. His hormones were in chaos, artificially skewed towards testosterone. He’d have spikes of it when he didn’t need it, causing a chain reaction of biologically programmed conditioning to spark. Thus, her broken equipment… Among other things.

His body was, effectively, pulling itself apart. Without a medical degree, she’d already had to conduct an emergency surgery on him to keep him stable until he could get to a real doctor. It was one thing to know that an organ would cause a human to bleed out if ruptured, and another to have to cut a man open and stare it in the face…

His resistance to the nano-biotics was… incredibly frustrating. It made her work all the more difficult.

If Angela was working with her…

When her door opened again, she leveled a glare at the unfortunate who’d barged in.

Jesse McCree. He glanced around at the broken glass, the prone body on the table, and Moira’s steady hands slotting the blood sample into its little tray. His eyes narrowed.

“Always good to see you takin’ care of the commander, doc.” His tone was flat and irritated.

“Is there something I can help you with, cowboy?” She turned to take her samples back to the counter.

“I needed to talk to the commander.” Jesse stepped in, walking over to the side of the unconscious man, looking Gabe over.

He wasn’t hard to read, Moira could practically hear his thoughts. She had no interest in dissuading McCree or Genji in their view of her. She didn’t particularly dislike either young man, but she found them to be simple-minded. Never mind that Reyes had a temper and attitude problem before she’d even shown up… He wouldn’t tell them about his deterioration. He viewed it as weakness of leadership.

She was saddled with it too, bound to keep his secret.

Besides, she was perfectly capable of dealing with Reyes’ episodes. Better equipped than they were probably. She didn’t need their help. She didn’t need anyone’s help.

“You’re welcome to talk to him, but I doubt it would do any good,” she responded as she placed the samples onto the counter, not interested in prepping them with someone else in the room.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that, Doc?” He finally looked up at her, staring her down like he was finally about to lay out the truth that would bring her low.

She held up a hand, “I don’t have time on a typical day for this kind of ridiculous posturing, I have even less today. If you have nothing dire that requires his attention, I’m not waking him up and I’m ordering you to leave so I can get on with my work.”

“You can’t order me to do anything.” He said stubbornly.

Why were all Americans like this?

She leaned back on the counter and reached behind her, lifting the cover and tapping the button enacting the labs emergency quarantine procedure. The door locked, the lights flickered red and the steady voice of Athena told them to remain calm.

“Would you look at that?” she stated in a bored tone, staring down McCree coldly. “We seem to be under emergency medical quarantine.”

Moira moved away from the counter to the other side of the table, squaring up against the young man. She put her hands on the table, leaning forward to use her height to her advantage. Jesse obviously saw where this was going and looked more than a little angry. Good.

“That means that, between the two of us, I have command. It’s a twenty second cycle before I can turn it off again, so when that door unlocks: _Get. Out._ Is that clear enough for you, cowboy?”

The young man chewed his unlit cigar, trying to glare her down. She didn’t budge and eventually he turned away. “Tell the commander that I was lookin’ for him.”

“It’d be my pleasure.” She stood straight again, reaching over to turn off the quarantine, “I expect he’ll be out for approximately six hours.”

McCree paused as the door as it opened again, “Don’t do nothin’ weird to him while he’s out. He’s been screwy enough lately.”

“Yes, thank you.” She sighed at his stalling and only relaxed when he finally stalked out.

Moira looked down at Reyes’ unconscious form. He was not exactly a good man… But he was better than this. She had witnessed it when he’d been feeling better after her treatments. It had been there between his episodes. He’d be sarcastic and gruff, but he wouldn’t be this raging monster the American government had made.

She’d basically been adding patches to the holes in a sinking ship. How was she supposed to rebuild him?

Now that was a thought...

… _Could_ she do that?

She looked at her own, off-colored arm and a small grin of excitement tugged at her lips.

If she could do it to an arm… Why not an entire body? His only other option was staring down a horrible demise, right?

They’d talk when he woke up. Almost dotingly, she patted his shoulder with her clawed hand.

“ _Táim do do leigheas._ ”

 

Going back to work on Monday after their little weekend break was… Incredibly interesting.

For Angela, it was like a lightswitch had flipped and she was burning to solve this problem. Angela had hardly spent the last week slouching, but good sleep and the sudden urge not to help, but to protect… It pushed her in a whole new way.

She went back over all of Moira’s material, sighing at the little quirks born out of the woman’s freedom to keep records however she liked. Over the course of Monday and Tuesday, she re-buried herself in the notes— just to be fresh— before she came up with a list of tests she wanted to run on Moira’s arm.

Nothing that she was asking for would be simple or easy. She had suspicions that the keratin growths down her arm had mutated further. She wanted a muscle and bone marrow biopsy to check for a similar thing. Moira was going to have to go under for all of these. She’d already expressed that local numbing agents simply didn’t work as they were too quickly broken down and processed by the limb itself and not her kidneys.

Which by itself was... more than alarming. This arm was capable of self repair on a scale that was frankly astonishing.

So why hadn’t Moira simply changed all of herself yet?

Before this extension of the arm’s mutation, she indicated that she’d viewed it as a success, right?

… Questions for after the procedure maybe.

Moira agreed to go under and Angela did her best to get what she needed quickly and cleanly. It had to be an open biopsy. There was no other option, as a needle would only work on the hand and Angela wanted to avoid that. She had to cut a piece of the modified keratin out as well as a small chunk of the muscle on the shoulder so she could also get a small sample of bone-marrow from the humerus.

It was made all the more difficult by the fact that the flesh kept trying to stitch itself back together right in front of her eyes. Simply assuming that her nano-biotics would work on it was not a risk she wanted to take. It was a little relieving to know that when she patched Moira back up, she at least didn’t have to worry about recovery time or scars.

Angela tucked Moira under an extra blanket on the borrowed gurney, then wheeled her out of the lab and into her office. Normally she’d keep a patient in quarantine or in more guaranteed sanitary conditions but, the cut was already nothing more than a slight divot in her arm. There wasn’t even an open wound anymore. So the doctor was more than happy to let her wake up slowly in a warmer, more comfortable place while Angela went to start the process of preparing and testing the samples.

Moira still wasn’t awake when she was done, though her heart rate and blood pressure were fine whenever Angela popped in to check on her. She seemed to be the kind to wake up slowly.

The results were… Not as helpful as she expected, but not worthless.

Angela sat back in her chair, thinking. This ruled out an aggressive mutation kept in check by the mutated cells programming to multiply and rebuild themselves. That didn’t seem to be the problem. So what was? What was causing the mutation to spread so aggressively?

She pushed back in her chair and rubbed her eyes a little tiredly. It was getting late in the afternoon and they hadn’t stopped for lunch… Moira should be awake soon, too. She’d go to the little fry stand just down the road and grab them some food.

Angela checked that she was clean, shrugged out of her lab coat and made sure she had everything before she wrote a quick note in case Moira woke up, leaving it on the door to the office.

A little food and water… Then maybe she’d try coming at this from a different angle. A more… Moira-ish angle.

She didn’t see the shimmer in the air behind her as she turned off the lab’s lights.

 

“Hey, _Tia_ , wake up.”

The gloved hand patting her cheek was a rude awakening, and not from the person she’d been expecting.

“Sombra…?” Moira blinked a few times as the cloaked woman flickered into view above her. It felt like her brain was clogged with sludge, the tail end of the drug that had put her under still lingering in her system. She’d always been slow to recover, she’d just been lucky not to have many reasons to be sedated.

“Bad news: you’ve been in a coma for six years. Good news: your new girlfriend stayed loyal and will be excited to see you awake. Finally.” Sombra leaned on her elbow next to Moira’s ear, looking all too amused.

The tall woman blinked once at her and then sighed.

“You’re hilarious. Now help me sit up, you chancer.” Moira groaned softly as Sombra took her hand and hauled her to sit up. She didn’t really care much that her top half was exposed. Sombra had likely seen her in much more compromising positions. The older woman leaned a little over her legs and rubbed her face to try and clear the grogginess.

“Chancer? You realize that I’m thirty, right?” Sombra snorted as she hopped up onto the end of the bed next to the Irishwoman.

“And I’m old enough to be your mother… Technically.” Moira snorted back, turning to put her feet on the floor. It steadied her a bit more. She plucked off the monitoring band on her wrist and hooked it back onto its stand, turning the machine off.

This was likely not a social visit. For as much as she enjoyed the young woman’s antics and complete disregard for other Talon members deadly serious nature... they didn’t typically interact socially. She wasn’t even sure Sombra _had_ a social life.

Moira glanced around the office out of instinct, even though she knew Sombra wouldn’t have let Angela see her. Or anyone else for that matter… But if she was here, that meant Talon wanted something and that could be a problem. “To what do I owe this visit, Sombra?”

“Can’t I just visit my favorite scientist?” Sombra kicked her feet a little as they dangled, “Ok, fine. Gabe asked me to ask you for help on a mission since I was in the neighborhood. He’s going monkey hunting.”

“‘Monkey hunting’?” Moira squinted at the hacker in confusion, “Sombra, I’m too knackered for your games right now.”

“No games. I guess technically he’s an ape… An ape you both happen to know.” Sombra shrugged.

… Oh.

“You can tell him that I’m indisposed,” she said firmly, starting to stand.

“Aw, are you feeling a little sentimental?” Sombra chuckled at her.

Moira glared over her shoulder, grabbing her shirt from where it had been folded on top of the desk. “Hardly.”

“Really? Because if they ask why and I tell them that I just so happened to notice you’re shacking up with Angela Ziegler they’re gonna think that’s the reason.” Sombra hummed, innocently thoughtful.

Moira felt her temper spike up. “ _Nách í an bhitseach í?_ ”

She tried to calm herself down. This wasn’t Gabriel, this was Sombra… They both used threats as currency, but in different ways. Reyes used threats as a way to raise the fear of those he hunted. Sombra used them as a way to try and get what she wanted.

“What are you after, Sombra?” she growled, still irritated but keeping herself contained for the moment.

Sombra slid off the gurney. “What I’m after? Aw, tia… I thought we were friends.”

“You use friendship like a cudgel,” Moira intoned irritably.

She came around to Moira’s front and took over buttoning the shirt that Moira had forgotten. “Come on, don’t be like that… I’m pretty curious though, are you planning on keeping her or is this just a fling because you never got the chance before?”

Moira grabbed Sombra’s hands to stop her halfway up, holding them none too gently as she loomed over the smaller girl. There was no subtlety in the geneticist’s expression, face twisted in a cold and vicious snarl. “If you do anything to harm Angela, I will not rest until you understand the full definition of suffering. Are we clear, ‘friend’?”

“Que miedo…” Sombra looked a little shocked, but she quickly shook herself and that smile returned, “Alright, amiga, we’re clear. Answers the question anyway, don’t you think?”

Moira let Sombra go when the young woman pulled back. She stiffly went back to buttoning her shirt, pressing past this. “I’m unable to assist now because of personal medical necessity, not because I hold any sentimental feelings towards Winston.”

Sombra nodded in a kind of mock sympathy, “I understand, of course. So I suppose you’d prefer Ziegler’s presence here _not_ be mentioned?”

“Obviously.” Moira finished the last button and tucked the shirt into her pants mechanically. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I think that about covers it. Oh yeah, here.” Sombra held out a little slip of paper, “Your girlfriends gone out, left you this. Aren’t I nice not making you wander around looking for her?”

Moira took it with a sigh, unfolding it.

_Moira, I’ve gone to get lunch. If you wake up I should be back around 15:45. Just rest until I’m back and can check on you. Doctor’s orders. ~A_

She glanced up but Sombra was gone, possibly still in the room. It didn’t really matter. Even if Talon’s hacker wasn’t in the room, she could be looking through the cameras. Better to assume that Sombra knew or saw just about everything than to think you’d hide something from her.

Moira didn’t dislike Sombra, though they’d never had a confrontation quite like that until now.

It was easy to see why some people despised her.

Even now, Moira couldn’t say that she did. Wary of her now? Yes. Hate? No. She was sure, however, that the young lady would eventually want something in return for her silence about Angela… The only question was _what_.

 

“I left a note.” Angela sighed as she pushed back into the office. Her patient had apparently abandoned the gurney to go over the results of the tests.

Moira looked up at her from the desk, smiling lopsidedly in a way that made Angela turn a bit pink. That was not going to win her over, though.

“I wanted you to rest,” Angela continued, setting the bag down on the desk as she frowned down at Moira.

“I only moved over here because I wanted to see the results. I haven’t done anything else, I promise,” Moira said in a sweet tone that made Angela want to throw something at her.

“If you’d fallen and hit your head?” she protested irritably.

“Well, I’d feel ridiculous. Thankfully that didn’t happen. Honestly, love, I barely feel off colour anymore.” Moira scooted back in her chair a bit, “Do you want to check me over, Doctor?”

That shouldn’t sound dirty. For several days Angela had basically pushed everything romantic and sexual out of her head while they were at work and kept it to when they were in Moira’s apartment. She was too busy and this was too important,but it all came flooding in with that simple comment.

Another reason to throw something at Moira’s head.

But something soft at least.

She grabbed the little rolling station next to the gurney and wheeled it over, slipping the band over her wrist to check her blood pressure and heart rate.

“Let me check your eyes,” she grumbled. It was all looking normal so far and Angela turned on the little penlight to check Moira’s dilation. The pupils flexed like she expected and Angela stood up straight again. “Fine… You’re alright, I suppose, but I want you to drink water and eat slowly and to tell me if anything feels off, alright?”

“I think I could use a little help now, actually.“ Moira’s hands reached up and gripped her hips, pulling her down onto the older womans lap. “Mmm… Yes, this feels much better.”

Angela faught a blush as Moira wrapped her in a hug and buried her nose against Angela’s sensitive neck, sighing deeply.

“This is not work-appropriate, O’Deorain,” she grumbled half-heartedly.

“Going under makes me nervous, if I’m honest,” Moira hummed quietly. “That kind of loss of control… At least if I was asleep, I’m likely to wake up if something happened around me. If I’m drugged, then I can’t defend myself.”

Angela’s weak irritation softened at that. She wrapped her arms around Moira’s shoulders, threading her fingers through her ginger hair and leaning against her. “... I understand. I made sure that everything was locked up tight and I was only gone ten minutes… But I won’t leave if we have to do this again for any reason. I’ll sit with you until you’re awake. Alright? I would never let anything happen to you.”

Moira nodded. “Thank you. Just a little comfort and I’ll be grand…”

Angela was content to just hold her while she breathed. This was… technically resting, she supposed.

Moira could seem so unshakable. The idea that she was afraid of having her control taken away didn’t seem strange, though. Moira had talked about therapy, about having a temper when she was a child, about breaking glass causing a fear-reaction in her… So many hints of things that Angela didn’t know about her. What had caused these things? How did Angela go about asking?

Should she ask at all?

What would Angela prefer in Moira’s place?

In a way, she hadn’t really had to deal with this kind of thing much. The things that gave Angela nightmares, the sources of her stress, were easily searchable on the internet. It seemed like every other article she showed up in just had to mention how she’d tragically lost her parents in the Omnic Conflict. The battles she’d been in since then. The explosion of Overwatch’s Swiss Headquarters... Maybe there were a few hidden things. Ana and Torbjorn’s betrayal of her trust. Her conflicts with Jack… Moira… But the major things were all available for public consumption. She couldn’t escape it and anybody with half a moment’s interest didn’t _need_ to ask her permission for that information.

And so many hadn’t. They just assumed they knew her from what the news published.

She couldn’t use her own reactions to this as a basis for what might make Moira talk to her...

What about others? Fareeha, Torbjorn, Ana, Jack, Lena, Gerard… All of them had had their own ways of saying ‘don’t ask me’. She hadn’t asked Fareeha much, mostly by the woman’s own request. She’d always been the most direct. Torbjorn would say that it just didn’t matter, even though it obviously did. Ana and Jack dodged questions and kept things vague. Lena and Gerard had been masters of using humor to deflect…

The only ones who didn’t seem to lie or hide anything were Winston and Reinhardt. Both men had been open books in their own ways, Winston partly because he had very little history to go over. He hadn’t been that old when they’d been acquainted. Reinhardt had taken to her like an uncle and told her story after story about his history, successes, and failures. She was sure he embellished, but she didn’t doubt that generally they were true.

Angela hoped they were both alright, not for the first time.

None of this helped figure out how to approach Moira though, not that she’d ever been sure how to approach Moira.

She had to figure it out on her own.

“Moira…” she started hesitantly.

“Hmm?” The sound vibrated against her chest and neck where the Irishwoman was resting her head.

“... Going over the results from the biopsies, I was surprised to see less mutation then you had projected. I want to try a bit of a more… aggressive approach in figuring out what’s causing the spread.”

She’d just ask later. Distracting Moira with work would be better for her right now, right? Rather than forcing her to dredge up painful things.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expected to be able to write more while I was traveling. I underestimated the power of my fully operational dyslexia, sorry for the long wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is the first fic I've written in ten years. We'll see how it goes. I'm not sure exactly on chapter length but I'm not expecting it to be very short. Please let me know what you think, constructive critique is welcome.


End file.
